


I Don't Dance

by half_rice



Series: Can I Have This Dance [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - High School, And NCT members..., Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Featuring Jungwoo as Jeongin's mom, M/M, Slow Burn, a SHIT ton of cameos from JYPNATION
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-10-11 05:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 175,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/half_rice/pseuds/half_rice
Summary: Chan is the captain of a high school baseball team that hasn't won a single match in six years. Woojin is the captain of the 6-time national champions. And they don't like each other... at fIRST.A slowburn baseball anime AU that has bloated way out of proportion...





	1. 9 Losses – 0 Wins

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I don't know shit about baseball  
> 2\. 3RACHA, Hyunjin, and Felix are in one school, and Woojin, Seungmin, Minho, and Jeongin are in another school.  
> 3\. Both JYP and GOT7 Jinyoung are here and both are coaches i;m sorry for the confusion but trust me, i was more confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Erm,” Chan scratches the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t exactly call supporting our team ‘throwing money into a hole’, Vice Principal Bae.”
> 
> “You’re right.” The vice principal heaves a sigh. “It’s more like setting the money on fire and throwing it out the window.”
> 
> Chan grimaces.

“I honestly thought you were kidding.” Changbin says, pulling his gym bag higher up his shoulder.

“Why would _I_ kid about something like _this_?” Chan whines, shaking the chain-link fence in front of them. On a good day, the other side of the chain link fence would usually be a sparsely grassy field, with a messily drawn diamond somewhere on the far end, far from the parking lot. On a bad day it would be a giant box of of brown dust with more, white dust vaguely in the shape of a diamond.

Today there’s this huge corrugated iron fence all along inside perimeter of the field, blocking their view of whatever might be going on inside. There’s a tarpaulin hanging somewhere to Chan’s left, which has an illustration of the multi-level parking lot that’s currently being built in the field’s place.

“Where are we going to practice now?” Felix asks, his armful of baseball bats starting to slip out from his grasp.

“Maybe they haven’t started building yet,” Jisung says, hopping like a rabid bunny to try and see over the corrugated iron fence.

Hyunjin rests an elbow on Jisung’s shoulder and cranes his neck slightly to peek over the fence. “I think I see a backhoe, so… yeah, nope.”

“You’re a backhoe.” Jisung scowls at him.

“Guys!” Chan claps his hands together so hard it echoes down the street. “This is fine, we can just… uhh… Let’s just do some drills in the park?”

The rest of the team let out a resigned groan as they trudge after Chan.

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Changbin asks, throwing an arm casually around Chan’s shoulders.

“Uh… the plan is…” Chan’s scraping his brain for something to say. They’ve been evicted from their only training field by a fucking parking building. The team could always play in the park, but someone always kicks them out for ‘posing a danger to other parkgoers.’ Which, Chan knows, is fair enough, because his teammates bat with more passion than accuracy.

“I’ll talk to the vice principal.” Chan says finally.

The other boys give him the open-mouthed, wide-eyed looks of admiration slightly tainted with pity.

Jisung claps Chan on the back. “You’re a hero, man.”

 

“And how many matches did the team lose last season?” The high school’s vice principal asks, tapping one shiny black high heel against the leg of her chair as she narrows her eyes at Chan.

“Only eight.” Chan twiddles his thumbs in his lap. He’s a positive guy. His team’s not _all_ bad.

“Eight out of how many?”

Chan’s positive, but he’s not delusional. “Eight out of… eight.”

The vice principal lets out a long sigh, like she’s used to smoking and suddenly gone cold turkey, but she can’t really let the habit go. “Mr. Bang, it’s not that our school is too poor to support its own varsities, but we’re not rich enough to be throwing money into a hole, you get me?”

“Erm,” Chan scratches the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t exactly call supporting our team ‘throwing money into a hole’, Vice Principal Bae.”

“You’re right.” The vice principal heaves another smoker’s sigh. “It’s more like setting the money on fire and throwing it out the window.”

Chan grimaces.

“Listen, Mr. Bang, you’re a great captain and a fairly decent player, and I’ve got nothing against you.” The vice principal says, her expression softening. “But the rest of your _team_ … If your team would just stop embarrassing the entire school community, then _maybe_ everyone would be more motivated to help you out when things like this happen. But with the way things are now, the school board doesn’t even want your team using our school’s name in tournaments. I fought my ass off just to let you keep the _W----- High Weevils_.”

Chan tries to do anything but grimace, and fails. “Thanks, Vice Principal Bae.”

“No problem. But about your training…” The vice principal taps her shoe on the leg of her chair thoughtfully. Then she sighs again. “I’ve got nothing, Mr. Bang, you’re going to have to get resourceful on that one.”

“It’s all right, Vice Principal Bae,” Chan gives her a quick bow. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Good luck.” The vice principal gives him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll need it.”

 

The next day, Changbin finds he can’t concentrate on his lessons. Well, more than usual.

He flies out the door the before his last teacher can finish the word “dismissed.”

“CAP CAP CAP CAP CAP!!!” Changbin screams, the other students in the hallway parting like a slightly deafened Red Sea.

“What the fu- Oh, hi Changbin,” Chan says, having ducked behind his locker door on instinct. He steps out from behind the door and tries to lean against the lockers casually. “What’s up?”

“I found a place.” Changbin says.

Chan’s eyes widen. “That was fast.”

“Yes I am.”

Chan’s brain whirs for a moment trying to process that, when Changbin grabs someone by the collar as they pass. “Hey! You!”

Hyunjin makes a face as he squirms out of Changbin’s grip and straightens out his collar. “We’ve been teammates for two years, dude, how do you not know my name?”

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin, he just forgets when he’s excited.” Chan assures him.

“Whatever, let’s go!” Changbin waves aggressively at a nervous-looking freshman across the hallway. “You! Freshman! Come on!”

Felix points at himself, as if to say, _Me?_

“Yes you!”

“His name’s Felix,” Chan mumbles helpfully.

“FELIX! Get your ass here! We’re leaving!”

“What about the other five guys on the team?” Hyunjin asks, eyebrows raised in only mild interest.

“Let’s round everyone up and all go together,” Chan says, holding Changbin by the shoulders to keep him from lifting off the floor in excitement.

 

Chan, for all his positivity and faith in Changbin, lowered his expectations.

“Damn this place is _nice_ ,” Chan whistles, as he and the rest of the team ogle the crisp green field across this chain-link fence. To an outsider, they look kind of like kids pressing their noses to a candy shop window, but kids who are hungry for cleanly cut grass and straight chalk lines.

“It’s even got a net so we don’t break anyone’s windshields!” Jisung squeaks, all but climbing the fence at this point.

“This is what heaven looks like.” Felix breathes, taking a deep whiff of the freshly cut grass. “And smells like.”

He tries to tackle Changbin in an appreciative hug, but Changbin manages to slide out of Felix’s grasp at the last moment.

“Aaaand the locker has showers and running water,” Changbin says, clasping his hands together like an aggressive door-to-door salesman. “Aaaaand the rent’s cheap as _balls!_ ”

“…Is that cheap?” Chan frowns.

“Yes.”

Chan’s face lights up. “That’s great!”

“Right? I already rented the place for the whole week!” Changbin says, drawing another concerned look from Chan. “One step ahead of you, Cap.”

“We don’t really have budget for…” Chan trails off, watching a big white bus with a cartoon bear on the side roll to a stop across the field. The rest of the boys stop cheering and talking to watch, too, because they can read the name on the side of the bus.

_S------ High Growling Bears._

“The fuck are _they_ doing here?” Jisung scowls.

“No way.” Chan breathes.  

Chan looks to his right, because it’s unlike Changbin not to have something to say about the Bears, but Changbin’s already gone through the gate and started storming towards the bus.

“Oh shit,” Chan sighs, before running after Changbin.

 

“-reservedthefieldforthewholeweekfrom4pmto6pmyoucanaskMr.Kimifyoulikebuthe’sjustgoingtosaythesamethingandthat’sthatIalreadypaidthefuckingdownpaymentoutofmyownfuckingbackpocketsodon’tyouthinkforonefuckingsecondthatI-!!!”

Chan has to literally hug Changbin from behind, lift him off his feet, and place him behind him just to shut him up. It takes a lot of confidence to be a member of the worst team in the district’s history and shout at the national champions, but if anything, at least Changbin’s not lacking in confidence.

Chan turns back to the S------ High Growling Bears, who’d been watching Changbin with mildly amused, mostly annoyed expressions. “I’m so sorry about him.”

“No! No!” Changbin struggles to break free from Chan’s viselike hug. “Don’t fucking _apologize_! We rented the field! Fair and square! As far as capitalism goes!”

“What’s going on here?” The Bears’ coach storms over, his square jaw jutting out.

Chan squirms backward, and Changbin cowers behind him shamelessly. The Bears’ coach is notorious for having the kindness and patience of a moai monolith.

He also kind of looks like one.

“Coach Park,” One of the Bears’ says in that annoying whiny tone every snitch takes on when they talk to adults. “They won’t let us on the field.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Chan says, a nervous laugh finding its way out. “We never said anything like that, Coach Park-”

“Who the hell are you?”

“We’re from G-------- High School.” Changbin lies through his teeth. Chan makes a face at him like, _What?_

Changbin grinds his teeth like, _Play along if you want to live, dude._

Chan doesn’t.

“We’re from the W------- High School Weevils,” Chan says with all the pride he can muster, ignoring the snorts and snickers from the other team. “And my teammate- I mean, _we_ ’ve reserved this field for the whole week, sir.”

Coach Park seems to chew on nothing, his moai jaw sliding from left to right in an almost hypnotic manner. “Hmmm.”

He turns to his team, who’ve just been watching the entire exchange in the hopes of catching Coach Park make members of another team entirely do push-ups or burpees. “Did Assistant Coach Yoo reserve the field?”

Chan’s heart beats in his ears while the Bears mutter among themselves.

“It doesn’t matter, Coach,” One of the Bears steps forward, continuing in an irritatingly calm voice, “My dad said I can use the field whenever I want.”

Chan feels a vein throb in his temple. This isn’t just any one of the Bears. This is their captain, Kim Woojin, whose family seems to own every field, gym, and stadium in the city.

“Asshole,” Changbin mutters under his breath.

Chan doesn’t disagree.


	2. “Pencils can be erased” – Lee Minho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m uh, I’m Bang Chan, I’m the captain-”
> 
> “-of the Weevils. I know.” Woojin says.
> 
> “Oh.” Chan didn’t think anyone in the other schools bothered to get to know them as they pummeled his team into the dirt. “We just, uh, we wanted to talk to you guys about the training field, from yesterday-”
> 
> “What about it?” Woojin’s eyes flit to the clock on the wall, like he’s got no less subtle way to let Chan know he’s wasting his time.

_Wednesday_

“What are we doing? Are we going to fight them?” Jisung asks, twisting the cap on his head to point forward, like he’s turning it to attack position.

Chan frowns at him. “No, Jisung, we’re going to be _diplomatic_.”

“And if the diplomatic shit doesn’t work, we’re going to throw hands.” Changbin says, cracking his knuckles.

Hyunjin pulls an earbud out of one ear. “Wait, what? I thought we were just gonna guilt-trip them-”

“We’re going to _talk_ to them,” Chan corrects him. “And no one’s going to throw hands or anything else at _anyone_.”

“Good.” Hyunjin pops his earbud back in. “’Cause this shirt’s brand new.”

“I’ll protect you, bro,” Felix claps Hyunjin on the back. “I’ve been working on my flying kick.”

Jisung and Changbin nod appreciatively, but Chan groans and holds his arms out to bring their little parade to a stop, “No one’s going to kick anyone, okay? I want everyone behaving like _humans_ in there, okay?”

He gets three mumbled “okay”s and one “not if they start anything first” from Changbin. Chan sighs. _Good enough for me, I guess._

Chan pushes the door to the Subway open, his teammates trailing behind him. The S------ High Bears are, as always, having a post-training snack in the Subway near their school, like the pricks they are.

“Hiya,” Chan says, giving them a wave.

One Bear glances at Chan and his teammates, snorts, then goes back to his lettuce-filled sandwich. The rest carry on laughing about something their assistant coach said earlier.

“Hiya.” Chan says, in a slightly louder, but not less friendly voice.

The same Bear who snorted earlier lifts his eyebrows and nudges the Bear next to him. The Bear next to him mutters something like, “Just ignore them until they go away.”

Changbin lays a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for Plan B.” He whispers loudly. Jisung nods so aggressively that Chan can _hear_ it.

Chan shrugs Changbin’s hand off. “No,” Chan hisses. “No Plan B.”

Chan takes a deep breath and steps closer, until he’s practically leaning against the Bears’ table. “Hi, guys, we’re from W------ High-”

“We know.” One of the Bears says without glancing up from his sandwich. The one who’d noticed Chan earlier chortles again, his mouth pulling into a wide grin.

“We didn’t mean to bother you guys while you’re eating-”

“Then don’t.” The Bear replies. He gives Chan a sickly-sweet smile. “See you at the prelims.”

“Stop bring such a bitch, Minho,” The Bears’ captain says, grinning as he throws a slice of cucumber in Minho’s direction. He turns to Chan and says, grin wiping off his face, “What do you guys want?”

“I’m uh, I’m Bang Chan, I’m the captain-”

“-of the Weevils. I know.” Woojin says.

“Oh.” Chan didn’t think anyone in the other schools bothered to get to know them as they pummeled his team into the dirt. “We just, uh, we wanted to talk to you guys about the training field, from yesterday-”

“What about it?” Woojin’s eyes flit to the clock on the wall, like he’s got no less subtle way to let Chan know he’s wasting his time.

“We were wondering if we could use it for training.” Chan says. “Considering we already rented it for the week and all.”

“About that,” Woojin puts his sandwich down. “It seems like you only paid to have yourselves penciled in the schedule.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Pencils can be erased,” Minho offers unhelpfully. The Bear sitting next to him chortles again.

“Whoever talked to the manager didn’t have enough for the downpayment,” Woojin explains in that calm audiobook voice that’s starting to piss Chan off.

Chan whirls around halfway to glare at Changbin, who’s suddenly interested in the menu.

“I’m… sorry for the misunderstanding,” Chan says, through gritted teeth.

Changbin frowns at him then, ready to launch into another breathless rant, but Jisung beats him to it.

“Money shit aside, that’s the only field we’ve got.” Jisung cuts in, placing his hands palm flat on the Bears’ table, rattling a few plates. “We don’t have anywhere else to train.”

“Your school doesn’t have a field?” Asks one of the other Bears who’d been quiet up till now.

“Nope.” Jisung and the rest of his teammates murmur self-consciously.

“Oh.” The Bear who’d asked looks down at his sandwich thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but there are plenty of other public spaces you can train in,” Woojin says. “Isn’t there a pitch behind the mall?”

“There was.” Chan says. “It’s being made into a parking building.”

“Oh, well,” Woojin shrugs with the slightest hint of sympathy. “Surely there are other places you can go.”

Jisung’s jaw juts out at that. “You have four fields in your own school!”

“ _Four_?” Felix’s eyes widen at the idea, wondering how long it must take to go from one class to another with four entire fields in between.

“Only one of them is a ball field,” Woojin says. “And it’s also under construction.”

“Oh.” Chan says, extending one harm to hold Jisung back like a good seatbelt.

“So we don’t have much of a choice either.” Woojin admits.

Both teams stare at each other for a moment, neither sure how to feel about the fact that they share something, anything in common.

 

Chan walks out of the Subway, dejected and holding a ham and cheese sandwich he paid too much for.

“I’m sorry, guys.” He says to his four teammates still hanging around, each holding an equally expensive sandwich.

“Why didn’t you fight them?” Hyunjin plucks an earbud out before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“I thought you were worried about your shirt?” Chan frowns at him.

At that moment, a large glob of yellowish sauce falls out of Hyunjin’s sandwich and onto the front of his white shirt with an audible _plop_. Hyunjin gives Chan a cold look. “So much for that. How about we go back and fight them?”

“I second the motion,” Jisung says gravely, turning his cap into attack position.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Chan blocks the sidewalk, brandishing his sandwich to stop his teammates from storming back into the Subway. “No one’s fighting anyone today. There’s no point. They’re not gonna let _us_ stop them from getting another title.”

“But they’re also stopping us from getting a shot at the title.” Felix says, brow furrowed.

“We…” Chan chooses his words carefully.

He takes too long. Jisung says, “We never had a shot at the title, Felix.”

“What?” Anyone within a ten-foot radius could’ve heard Felix’s heart breaking. He turns to Chan with an honest-to-goodness pout. “But you said at the tryouts-”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Chan takes a deep breath. “Felix, our team hasn’t won a single game since _I_ was in middle school.”

Changbin scratches his nose. “Actually, we won _one_ last year.”

“That was a friendly match against a middle school team, it doesn’t count.” Jisung says.

“Well fuck that, then.” Changbin says.

“We’ll just have to… keep looking,” Chan says finally. “Like their captain said, there are lots of public spaces around here, maybe we missed out on something.”

“Their captain’s kind of an asshole.”

“The whole team is full of assholes.”

“Wonder if that’s what they try out for.”

“We shouldn’t judge,” Chan says, with all the diplomacy he can muster. It’s not much right now. “But it’d feel _really_ good to beat them, even just once.”

 

Hyunjin heads home in a pensive mood.

He kicks his sneakers off and throws his backpack somewhere on the floor, in a pensive kind of way.

“What’s your problem?” His older brother asks, holding a textbook open while he watches some drama on the TV. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin flops onto the couch next to his brother. “But there’s nowhere to practice.”

“Wha- Oh, right,” Hyunjin’s brother rolls his eyes. “They made the field into a fucking basketball gym. Thought you were using the abandoned lot behind the mall?”

“The mall bought it. They’re building a parking lot… building.”

“Well that sucks.” Hyunjin’s brother looks up at a crack in the ceiling thoughtfully. “Isn’t there a new ballpark near W------?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s really nice,” Hyunjin props his feet up on the coffee table, wiggling his toes inside his socks. “But the _Bears_ are using it.”

He says it like the word’s something caught between his teeth and he’s trying to spit it out.

“The _Bears_? The S------ High _Bears_?” Hyunjin’s brother says the word like it’s a swear. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Those guys are a fucking _joke_! When I was in high school we used to-!”

Hyunjin had forgotten for a moment there how much his older brother _hates_ the S------ High Bears, but his brother quickly reminds him. For the next five minutes.

Hyunjin pops an earbud out when his brother quiets down again. “Are you done, hyung?”

“The field’s nearer our school,” Hyunjin’s brother says, desperate to have the last word. “They should know their fucking place.”

Hyunjin has an idea. A terrible, great idea. “You should tell them.”

“No, your _coach_ should-”

“Coach Im is on paternity leave again.”

Hyunjin’s brother’s expression is so sour that Hyunjin does everything in his power not to laugh.

“Coach Im really needs to learn a thing or two about family planning,” Hyunjin’s brother mutters.

“I think they’ve got a plan,” Hyunjin shrugs. “I think they’re trying to break some kind of record.”

Hyunjin’s brother shudders, then frowns. “So, wait, you don’t have a coach right now?”

“Chan’s covering for Coach.”

“Poor kid. When do prelims start?”

“In a month.”

 Hyunjin’s brother looks, dare Hyunjin say it? _Pensive_.

“Hyung?”

“The board exam’s not for another three months.” Is all Hyunjin’s brother says, closing his textbook.


	3. Scarier Than Balls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are we doing now, Coach?” The freckle-dotted infant asks.
> 
> Jinyoung crosses his arms, looking over the sorry state of his alma mater’s baseball team. “Today we’re all going to get over our fear of _balls_.”
> 
> They look up at him in pure horror.

_Thursday_

“Okay,” Chan claps his hands together after a very desperate pep talk. The entire team is standing in a huddle in the park, working through their training schedule as quickly as they can before someone has them kicked out. “Anyone got any important announcements? Only _very_ important ones, because we’re kind of working against time here.”

Hyunjin raises a hand lazily. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Hyunjin, we don’t have _time_ for-”

“Go on, Hyunjin.” Chan says urgently.

“My older brother’s volunteered to fill in for Coach Im for a while.”

Changbin chokes on thin air. “ _What_?”

“I knew having Hyunjin on the team would come in handy,” Jisung sends a kiss up at the sky. “Thank you, Jesus.”

“I don’t get it.” Felix says flatly.

“Hyunjin’s older brother is a legend,” Chan breathes.

“The Weevils won the Nationals back in his time.” Hyunjin explains.

“He’s a god among men on the mound,” Chan adds modestly.

“And he’s a god among men like, generally.” Jisung’s voice has taken on an unusually reverent tone.

“Wait,” Changbin holds up a hand. “I thought you said you had bad news. What is it?”

“That’s it. My brother’s good and bad news, isn’t he?” Hyunjin says. He checks his phone. “Oh crap, he’s here.”

Hyunjin’s older brother walks over, scowling from behind a dark pair of sunglasses. Hyunjin’s teammates let out a low, adoring gasp.

“Everyone,” Hyunjin says casually. “This is my brother, Park Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung whips the sunglasses off. “What the hell are you all standing around here for?”

“Uh…” Chan tries to nudge his teammates into some kind of order. “What do you want us to do, Coach?”

Jinyoung grins for a moment at the title, then scowls again. “Start doing drills, _duh_. You don’t need a coach for that. Ten laps around the park. Go.”

The boys scamper off like headless chickens.

 

Jinyoung steps over the slumped form of an exhausted, panting boy. “Captain.”

Chan jogs over, bounding over two of his teammates, who are resting on the grass after thirty minutes of drills, perhaps permanently. “Yes, Coach, sir?”

Jinyoung grins again. The novelty hasn’t worn off. “My brother’s a dumbass, he doesn’t know everyone’s positions.”

“Oh,” Chan nods. “That’s because Coach Im changes it up a lot.”

Jinyoung fixes him with a cold glare. “Are you joking?”

“No sir, Coach, sir.”

Jinyoung is starting to miss his textbooks. They’re much less of a migraine. “And how often does Coach Im… _shake things up_?”

“Um… every game, sir?”

Jinyoung starts rubbing his temples. _First this idiot coach has them play without drills and warm-ups, now_ this _?_ Jinyoung would be contemplating murder if the man didn’t have a newborn kid. “Has he ever told you _why_ he does that?”

“He wants us to be well-rounded, sir.”

Jinyoung manages to stop himself from screaming. “The _baseball_ needs to be well-rounded. The people need to have _positions_.”

Jinyoung notices a movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the kids is raising his hand. Jinyoung couldn’t be bothered to remember all their names right now. “Yes…?”

“Don’t the bats need to be well-rounded, too, Coach?”

Jinyoung narrows his eyes, but this freckle-dotted infant doesn’t seem to have an ounce of sarcasm in him, so he lets it slide. “Yes, they do.”

The freckle-dotted infant beams at him.

Jinyoung grimaces back. Then he catches sight of his brother standing by a tree, sipping water calmly. The latter hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“ _Dumbass_!” Jinyoung calls over, but a few too many of the boys perk up at the name.

“Yeah, hyung?” Hyunjin asks, carrying his bottle as he walks over.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Taking a water break.”

“You take a water break _after_ exerting yourself, not the other way around.” Jinyoung says tensely.

“Oh?”

Jinyoung resolves to be kind now, and shave the boy bald in his sleep later. “Go get the equipment.”

His brother returns ten minutes later, licking an ice cream as he dumps the following at Jinyoung’s feet: two bats, one and a half baseballs, and a stack of math books.

“Captain.” Jinyoung calls.

“Yes, Coach sir?”

“Please explain… this.” Jinyoung gestures at the pile of things in front of him.

“Of course, Coach, sir,” Chan squats next to the pile. He picks up the bats. “These are the bats the school bought for us.”

“I can see that.”

“And these are the balls.” Chan picks them up with one hand without dropping any, which Jinyoung appreciates. At least someone in this team seems like a real baseball player.  

“What is that.”

“It’s half a baseball, sir.”

“And what is it for?”

“Um,” Chan’s ears redden slightly. “Some of the team are afraid of balls, so they practice with that one ‘cause it’s a lot slower than a whole ball-”

“Hold on, some of the team are _what_?”

Chan’s ears are crayon red now. “afraid of balls.” He replies in a tiny voice.

“And yet they signed up to play base _ball_?”

“Um, yes, Coach, sir.”

Jinyoung glances at the muddy, beat-up math books. It doesn’t take a not-yet-licensed rocket engineer to figure out what those are being used for. _That’s a problem for another time._

“Captain?”

“Yes sir, Coach, sir?”

“Get all the boys who are ‘afraid of balls,’” Jinyoung says, making the double quotes with his fingers.

Jinyoung was expecting half the team to be standing in front of him, but he can only purse his lips when almost the entire team save for his younger brother and Chan are standing in front of him, scuffing their sneakers on the dirt and avoiding his eyes.

“Is that everyone?” Jinyoung asks, glaring at his brother like, _Don’t you fucking dare, I know you aren’t_ that _much of a fucking mess._

Hyunjin only shrugs.

“What are we going to do, Coach?” One of the boys asks, still avoiding Jinyoung’s line of sight.

“Are we going to play now?” Another asks, clearly exhausted.

_Oh, kid, me too. Me fucking too._

“Hyunjin, go get _my_ equipment from my car,” Jinyoung tosses his brother the keys to his car, suddenly reconsidering things when Hyunjin looks too pleased to catch the keys.

“What are we doing now, Coach?” The freckle-dotted infant asks.

Jinyoung crosses his arms, looking over the sorry state of his alma mater’s baseball team. “Today we’re all going to get over our fear of _balls_.”

They look up at him in pure horror.

 

“I don’t know what you’re planning, hyung, but our school’s pretty strict about child abuse.” Hyunjin says, cracking open a can of soda.

Jinyoung frowns at him. “Where did you get that?”

“Store.” Is all Hyunjin says, gesturing some cardinal direction.

Jinyoung shrugs and takes a sack of baseballs from his brother. “Okay, everyone stand in a line – no, not like that – okay, never mind, _just like that_. Here’s a glove, just catch the ball I throw at you-”

“ _At us_?”

“Yeah, yeah, just catch, then pass the glove back and go to the back of the line. Got it?” Jinyoung grins at the line of confused, angelic faces. _They’re like babies_. _No, they’re even worse than the T-balling toddlers._

Jinyoung hefts a baseball around in his hand. He hasn’t held a baseball sine he graduated high school. He’s suddenly feeling a little flabby. And _old_.

_Screw that._ Jinyoung takes a deep breath and winds up for a pitch.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” The boy standing a few meters away is still trying to get the glove on. “You didn’t say you were gonna _pitch_ at us-”

Jinyoung holds back at the last second, but the ball hits the glove with a resounding _smack_!

The thing was, the boy was just holding it in front of his face.

“Pass!” Jinyoung barks at him. The boy throws the glove to the next one – the freckled one – like a hot potato.

_Oh dear sweet freckled baby._ Jinyoung winds up and throws a pitch at a quarter of the usual speed, but it hits the glove, rolls upward, and whacks the freckled boy in the nose.

“Owwwwww,”

“Pass!”

 

“D’you think that maybe this is a bit… _harsh_?” Chan asks, wincing when the ball rolls off the glove and hits Jisung on the shoulder.

“Oh no, that’s already him being nice. He pretends to wind up between throws to buy them time, and he’s only aiming for the glove, not them.” Hyunjin takes a sip of soda. “When I was a kid, we’d do this without the glove.”

“Dude…” Chan studies Hyunjin’s blank expression in mild concern.

“Pass the glove, man!” Hyunjin shouts when Changbin fumbles with the glove.

The glove falls to the floor. Jinyoung doesn’t hesitate to pitch directly at the glove. The ball smacks into the leather so loud that a few birds get spooked out of a nearby tree.

“Should we do something?” Chan asks, reaching out instinctively when another ball bounces off the glove and into Felix’s nose.

“I think the best thing we can do is stand out of the way,” Hyunjin tugs on Chan’s shirt to pull him backward while Hyunjin’s brother winds up for another throw.

 

“Get off your ass.” Jinyoung kicks Hyunjin gently on the thigh. “Time to play.”

“The sun’s nearly gone.” Hyunjin says.

“We’d better hurry then.”

“Captain!” Jinyoung calls Chan over from where the latter had been hearing out his teammates complaints.

“Yes Coach, sir?”

“Those crappy math books are your bases, aren’t they?”

“…Yes, sir.” Chan answers apprehensively.

“Get something that looks like a diamond ready, let’s play.” Jinyoung says.

“B- But the guys are tired.” Chan says, his voice getting softer with every word.

“Are they?” Jinyoung looks over at the boys dragging their feet through the overgrown grass. “Nobody’s said anything to me.”

“They’re… uh… too _shy_ , Coach, sir.”

“Well, that’s another thing to get over for another day. Two innings, then we can all go home.” Jinyoung holds up two fingers in a V. “Just two innings, boys! Then we can go home!”

 

Jinyoung’s stuffing his equipment into the boot of his tiny smart car when he notices something wriggling in the corner of his eye.

“Yes?” Jinyoung asks.

“Oh, uh,” The boy hanging a meter away from the car glances anxiously in Hyunjin’s direction. “Hyuuuunjiiiin.”

Jinyoung’s little brother just shrugs. “Hyung, Jisung’s riding home with us today.”

_Jisung_ tiptoes a little closer to the car, but still doesn’t get in.

“It’s open.” Jinyoung says. He narrows his eyes at Hyunjin. “Did you make him pay for a lift?”

“No, hyung, what the hell.” Hyunjin lifts an eyebrow at Jisung. “Do you want to pay?”

“Hell no.”

Jinyoung starts the car. “Where do you live, Jisung?”

“Um…” Jisung glances at Hyunjin again.

“He lives on top of that café on the corner before our street.” Hyunjin says.

“Oh, really?” Jinyoung starts backing the car out of the parking space. “Do you guys own the café?”

“No.” Jisung replies in a tiny voice. “…Sir.”

“Oh, good, because the coffee there is terrible. It tastes almost like their lemonade,” Jinyoung laughs, looking into the rearview mirror to catch Jisung crack a smile.

“My aunt owns the café, actually.”

“Oh fuck.” Jinyoung covers his mouth with one hand, while his brother starts laughing.

“Their coffee’s crap, though, it’s okay.”

“Oh, good.” Jinyoung turns a corner carefully. “Could you give them a little nudge here or there to leave the lemons out of the fucking coffee?”

“Will do, Coach.”

 

“He said you’re not as scary as he thought,” Hyunjin says, getting back into the car after dropping by Jisung’s house to say hi to Jisung’s mom.

“Did he?” Jinyoung lifts both eyebrows. “Did I seem scary to you?”

“Dunno, you seemed normal to me.” Hyunjin shrugs. “But we’re not used to… your kinda coaching.”

“And what kind of coaching is that? The bare minimum?” Jinyoung slows down to let a scruffy cat cross the road.

Hyunjin shrugs.

“You really can’t start every inning with Chan yelling “ _Who wants to be pitcher? Catcher? First baseman?”_ And then have a bunch of people play rock paper scissors for third base and outfielder _every single time_.”

“Chan’s a really democratic kind of guy.”

“There’s a time and place for democracy.” Jinyoung turns the car into their street. “This isn’t it.”

“Sounds a bit dictatorial, but sure.”

“All coaches are dictators.” Jinyoung says.

Hyunjin sticks his earbuds in as the car pulls into their driveway. “Maybe you’ve just had really awful coaches.”

“Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, editing my own fic: BTICH YOUR JINYOUNG BIAS IS SHOWING  
> also me: YEAH AND WHAT OF IT
> 
> brace yourselves, jinyoung's probably going to figure in more than the other actual members of stray kids and i don't know if i'm even sorry


	4. Hold My Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So who was sitting next to you? Were they hot?”
> 
> “Um,” Chan takes a moment to think about it. _Well, objectively…_ “I guess so?”
> 
> “Did you get their number?” Jisung asks.
> 
> “Um…nope.” _No way._

_Friday (two weeks later)_

Chan’s not sure he’ll be able to sit through a whole movie when his entire body’s this sore, but he’d promised Changbin and Jisung to catch this new movie with them. Whatever it is.

“Coach Hyunjin’s Older Brother is Satan incarnate.” Changbin whines, squirming around in his seat on the bus. “My ass will never be the same again.”

“Yeah, he’s really hot.” Jisung nods, sitting on top of a hoodie to pad his poor, tired butt.

“That’s not what I… but yeah, he’s pretty hot.”

Chan tries to laugh, but he’s too tired and ends up coughing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to lift his arms to buy the fucking tickets.

They take the elevator up one floor – no shame – but the only tickets they manage to get are split into one pair on one side of the movie house, and one person all alone near the back of the theater.

“Maybe you’d like to try a later time?” The ticket seller suggests.

“Ah, no, we can’t stay out that late,” Chan smiles at her. “But thanks.”

They buy the tickets, then play a wild round of rock paper scissors to find out who gets separated. Jisung loses, but Chan feels bad about the sheer number of bases their coach had Jisung run that day, so Chan says, “I’ll take the solo seat.”

“What, really?” Jisung’s face lights up, then he forces a straight face on. The serious look doesn’t suit Jisung at all.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Chan claps Jisung on the back, before realizing that Jisung had caught one of the coach’s pitches with his shoulder blade.

“Ow ow ow.”

“Sorry, man,” Chan grimaces. “Anyway, I’ll take the loner seat and you guys can sit together.”

“Wait a sec,” Changbin narrows his eyes. “You’re just hoping you end up next to someone hot.”

A smile sneaks its way onto Chan’s face. “Of course, dude.”

 

Chan can see Jisung and Changbin craning their necks to try to get his attention, but he’s elected to ignore them, whatever they’re on about now.

A few couples squeeze into the row past Chan, who gives up and steps out into the aisle to let them all in.

“Excuse me- Oh, hi.”

Chan looks up at the last person trying to squeeze into the row. _You’ve got to be kidding me._

“Hi.” Chan murmurs as amiably as he can.

Woojin gives Chan a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Chan, in a moment of unbridled pettiness, places his drink in the cupholder between them. _This armrest is mine,_ Chan thinks, like a toddler clinging to a toy he doesn’t want to share.

Woojin doesn’t seem to mind. He settles into his seat, not joining in his friends’ loud conversation, and rubs his shoulder. The corner of a pain relief patch peeks out from under his shirt collar.

_He must’ve come from training, too,_ Chan figures, turning his attention away from Woojin, but he doesn’t care much for the trailers. They’re all for horror movies, and Chan hates horror movies. “Hates” here meaning he’s an absolute fucking weenie and he can’t sleep for weeks after watching even a bad horror movie.

_Hang on…_

The screen goes dark.

Low, unnerving music cues in a shot of a creaky, dark house.

_Oh shit._

 

“You think Cap’s gonna be fucking _pissed_ later?” Jisung whispers, reaching for a handful of Changbin’s popcorn.

“Oh come on, he’s a fucking wimp but he won’t piss his pants,” Changbin snorts.

“That’s not what I said, but whatever.” Jisung turns away from the screen, where someone’s being dragged by the ankles by a scrawny hand. He cranes his neck to try to find Chan, but the latter’s probably curled up in some kind of fetal position, because he can’t see him. “He’s gonna beat the _crap_ out of us later.”

“I don’t think he’ll crap his pants.” Changbin says as he crams a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

 

Chan holds back a yelp, closing his hands over his eyes again. But he can’t cover his eyes and his ears well at the same time, so he can till hear the scraping noises of whatever the fuck is in this white person’s house in the movie.

Eyes still shut, Chan tries to reach for his drink.

His hand brushes something, just as a loud clatter echoes from the theater’s speakers.

Another hand grabs his own, and Chan lets out a loud shriek.

“Oh, sorry.” A soft voice mumbles from next to Chan, dropping Chan’s hand in a hurry.

Chan peeks one eye open to find Woojin scooting all the way to the far end of his seat.

Chan looks down at his sweaty palm, lit by the flashes of lightning on the screen. _Did he just…_

“Oh, hey, Cap, you don’t look so bad,” Jisung says, flinging an arm carefully around Chan’s shoulders after the movie, like he’s tiptoeing around a minefield. “It wasn’t that scary, was it?”

“You kidding? I won’t be able to take a fucking shower with my eyes shut for _weeks_ ,” Changbin shudders, glancing at a dark corner in the hallway as they pass. He turns to Chan to grab the latter’s arm. “So who was sitting next to you? Were they hot?”

“Um,” Chan takes a moment to think about it. _Well, objectively…_ “I guess so?”

“Did you get their number?” Jisung asks.

“Um…nope.” _No way._

Chan looks up to find Woojin and his friends hanging around the exit of the theater, laughing about each other’s face during the movie. Well, Woojin’s friends were all laughing, while Woojin just had this good-natured smile plastered on his face, like he wasn’t really listening.

_Well that’s what you get for fifth-wheeling,_ Chan thinks, watching the couples around Woojin cling to each other in that overly affectionate way that high school couples do. _I almost feel bad for him._

Woojin’s eyes meet his, eyebrows lifting.

Chan looks away, pretending to be interested in the row of Coming Soon posters. But Jisung keeps dragging him along, and he finds himself close enough to hear a very small, quiet,

“Hi.”

Chan looks up again. “Hi.”

Woojin looks over at the two boys dragging Chan along. “Is the whole team here?”

“No.” Jisung says flatly.

“Oh.” Woojin’s mouth pulls into an embarrassed line.

“They’re tired from having to practice in the middle of a _public_ _park_ ,” Changbin mutters.

Chan shoots him a glare, but Changbin ignores the look.

“Did they ever give you your deposit back?” Jisung asks Changbin.

“Nope.” Changbin says, though Jisung already knew that.

Chan doesn’t like the Bears’ captain in the slightest, but he feels a little bad at how red Woojin’s ears are getting.

“You should, uh, ask the park manager?” Woojin suggests, rubbing one of his reddened ears like he’s trying to cover it up. “I’m sure there was just some kind of misunderstanding-”

“See you around, Woojin!” One of Woojin’s friends says, waving as she walks away with her hand intertwined with her boyfriend’s.

“See you,” Woojin says, waving back aggressively, begging her for help.

She turns away and doesn’t look back at him.

“You aren’t training every day yet, are you?” Jisung asks Woojin, the latter almost physically cornered by the three Weevils.

“Uh, nope, not for another few weeks-”

“So you don’t need the field every day?” Changbin asks.

“I- I guess not-”

“Then we can use it on the other days? MWF and TThS should be fair?” Changbin presses on, like a door-to-door salesman.

“I’m not sure Coach would-”

“But _your_ dad owns the field, right?” Jisung says. “Then your coach doesn’t really have much of a say in the matter.”

Woojin glances up at Chan for a second, pleading for help. But Chan’s enjoying himself, maybe a little more than he should, and he’s not about to pull the reins in on his persistent teammates.

“I think this is something for the coaches to discuss with each other-”

“ _Our_ coach? No, he’s not that big on _discussing_.” Jisung laughs, the laugh of someone whose shoulder still aches from a pitch from their coach.

“He’s more of a man of action,” Changbin says.

“And bets, he likes betting.” Jisung adds, so promptly it’s like the two of them scripted this whole thing.

“He’d probably ask your coach to wrestle our coach for rights to the field.”

Woojin’s blank face suddenly curls into a grin. “Doesn’t it make more sense to pit your team against mine?”

Jisung frowns, looking to Changbin for help. Beads of sweat are collecting on Changbin’s forehead when he asks, “What do you mean?”

Chan wishes he hadn’t.

“One match, seven innings.” Woojin says, with that careless confidence that really grates against Chan’s soul. “Winner takes our field, loser has to slum it out in the public park.”

_Slum it out._ Chan scowls at the Bears’ captain’s choice of words. He’d forgotten, for a moment there, how irritating Kim Woojin was. _Stuck-up piece of shit._

“Deal.” Chan says, holding a hand out for the other captain to shake. He can sense Jisung and Changbin shaking their heads aggressively, but he doesn’t care. The only thing Chan can think about is wiping that calm self-assured grin off Kim Woojin’s face. “Monday afternoon? 4 or 5 PM?”

For the second time that evening, Woojin takes Chan’s hand in his, and it doesn’t feel any less weird than the first time.

“Monday at 4PM. Deal.” Woojin says, before dropping Chan’s sweaty hand and wiping his palm on his jeans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are heating up lmao 
> 
> thank you everyone for the kudos & kind comments, i love stays and/or jinyoung hoes 💕✌😔✌💕


	5. The Other Park Jinyoung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m the temporary coach. Park Jinyoung.”
> 
> Assistant Coach Yoo laughs, gum held tightly between her teeth. “Ha, ha, funny.”
> 
> “I don’t see what’s funny.”
> 
> “Oh.” The woman frowns. “I thought you were making a joke, ‘cause our head coach is Park Jinyoung. You know, _the_ Park Jinyoung.”
> 
> Jinyoung’s about to come up with a really good retort when the _other_ Park Jinyoung comes jogging up to them.
> 
> “Well if it isn’t my _mini-me_!” The coach says, recognizing Jinyoung instantly. _Obviously._ “I haven’t seen you in years!”

_Monday_

Jinyoung takes his cap off and fans himself. The weather forecast had said today would be hot and humid, not like squeezing into the devil’s butthole. He’s in the middle of mopping his forehead off on his forearm when he notices, for the millionth time, the weird way the kids have been looking at him.

“Captain!” Jinyoung barks.

Chan breaks away from the drills to jog over. “Yes, Coach?”

“What’s everyone’s problem today?” Jinyoung asks, rolling his eyes when another kid cowers away from him. They’ve all been avoiding him – well, as much as they can considering he’s been barking orders at them for the past half hour.

“Uh, what do you mean, Coach?”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Jinyoung asks, watching the sweat trickle down Chan’s face.

“N- Nothing, Coach, sir.”

Jinyoung crosses his arms. “Spit it out.”

Chan’s mouth twists from left to right, like he’s shuffling through all the things he could possibly say right now and can’t find a single good one. “I, uh, could we get off practice early today? Please?”

“How early.”

“…In fifteen minutes?”

Jinyoung’s left eye twitches. “Why.”

“B- Because, Coach, sir,” Chan’s shooting weird looks at… Changbin and Jisung. Jinyoung pats himself on the back internally for remembering their names. “We challenged another team to a… uh, _friendly_ game later.”

Jinyoung grins at that. _Looks like they’re growing spines, even if they’ve got nothing to be proud of._

“What team?” He asks.

“Um…” Chan scuffs a sneaker into the grass. “The S----- High Growling Bears.”

Jinyoung snorts, then breaks out into honest-to-goodness guffaws on the lawn. The rest of the team had been doing some throw and catch – actually, it was more of one boy throwing and missing by at least an entire foot, and the ball tumbling into the tall grass for the other boy to dig around for – but the telltale sounds of balls not being caught had stopped.

“The _Bears_?” Jinyoung scoffs. “Oh, we’ve got this in the bag, good choice.”

“You’re not worried?” Chan asks.

“Of course not,” Jinyoung finds it cute how concerned the kids’ captain looks. “The Bears are a fucking joke. Even you guys could wipe the floor with them.” _No, that’s not right,_ Jinyoung thinks for a moment. “The dust? The soil? Wipe the soil with them? Whatever.”

He finds the entire team staring at him with wide eyes, as if they could see a red sniper dot on his forehead.

“What is it?” Jinyoung frowns, a little bit creeped out. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the _Bears_. They’re losers.”

Felix gasps audibly.

“Uh, hyung,” Hyunjin calls from under a nearby tree. If he’d been doing the drills, he’d been doing them without a glove, a baseball, and with a milk tea in one hand. “They’ve won the nationals for the past six years.”

Jinyoung’s ears redden, not because he’d made a mistake, but because he’d realized that the last time he’d played high school baseball had been _seven_ fucking years ago.

“They’re kind of a really scary team.” Jisung adds, though nobody asked.

“Like robots.” Changbin adds further.

“Baseball-playing robots.” One of the other boys adds.

“Really good baseball-playing robots.”

“The best baseball-playing robots.”

“They’re like that Scarlett Johansson movie.”

“But boys.”

Jinyoung’s heard enough. He puts a hand up, and the boys fall to silence. _That’ll_ never _get old._

“So you’re telling me,” Jinyoung starts slowly. “That you challenged the defending champions-”

“Five-time defending champions,” Chan offers helpfully.

“Thank you, Chan, the _five-time_ defending champions,” Jinyoung continues. “To a match. _Today_.”

The team looks down, like they’re searching the grass for something. Even Chan won’t meet Jinyoung’s eyes.

“And you didn’t even think to tell me beforehand?”

“Oh, uh, you see,” Chan mumbles, still watching an especially long blade of grass. “It was kind of a last-minute thing, last Friday, we ran into their captain at the movies…”

Jinyoung puts another hand up to stop him. “Yeah, okay, I don’t really care how it happened, because there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

Chan looks up, chewing on his lip. “Are you mad at us, Coach?”

Jinyoung has to think about it for a moment.

“No, not really, I’m more of mad at myself for not expecting you guys to do something like _this_.” Jinyoung sighs. He leans his shoulders back to crack them, then claps his hands together loudly. “Okay, everyone, listen up. We’re going to face apparently the best junior baseball team in the country with almost no fucking preparation, so let’s set our expectations realistically.”

The googly-eyed infants stare at him. Some of their mouths are hanging open in anticipation. Jinyoung wonders for a moment whether these kids get bullied at school.

_Stop wondering, Jinyoung. You_ know _they do_.

“We’ll do our best, Coach.” Chan says firmly. “And we’ll have fun while we’re at it.”

The other boys nod enthusiastically.

Jinyoung doesn’t know what kind of _Care Bear_ crap Coach Im had been feeding them, and he’s about to say something like, _There’s nothing fun about losing._ But they all look so stupidly hopeful that even Jinyoung doesn’t have the heart to pop their bubble.

“Sure, okay, let’s have fun and do our best and sing songs around the campfire,” Jinyoung mutters. He adds, “Let’s go, Weevils.”

“Let’s go Weevils!” Chan echoes, starting in a cheerful jog towards the bus stop.

“LET’S GO WEEVILS!” The rest of the boys cheer, running after their captain.

Jinyoung rounds up the rear, walking next to his brother, who couldn’t be bothered to run, _ever_.

“We’re going to get fucking squashed out there, aren’t we?” Hyunjin asks with a thoughtful sip of his milk tea.

“I’m confiscating this.” Jinyoung grabs his brother’s drink, scowling as he takes a sip. “And yeah, we’re walking right into a public execution.”

Hyunjin tries to get his drink back, pouting when Jinyoung doesn’t let him. “You mean we’re taking the bus to a public execution.”

_Right. When did the team get desperate enough not to have a fucking bus? Or a van at least?_

“Yeah.” Jinyoung takes a long sip of milk tea. “Let’s go, Weevils.”

 

The Weevils arrive half an hour late. They would’ve made it, but Jisung had been distracted by a game on his phone and missed the bus stop, and Chan had only noticed when he took a headcount as the bus was zooming off into the distance – To make a long, exhausting story short, Jinyoung had to waste time and gas looking for a lost Weevil.

When they finally get to the pitch, Jinyoung can’t help but whistle. The field is almost World Series-levels of nice. And it’s being wasted on _high schoolers_.

“I’m so sorry we’re late, ma’am,” Chan’s apologizing to a tall woman in threateningly-coordinated sportswear before Jinyoung can stop him.

“Never mind. We’re all warmed up, so you should probably get started if you want this game to end before tomorrow,” She says.

Jinyoung steps in to save the Weevils’ red-faced captain. “Chan, go lead a bit of stretching. We’re pretty much warmed up from running here.”

The woman chews her gum threateningly, narrowing her eyes at Jinyoung as the Weevils jog off to the side of the field in an awkward gaggle.

“I’m Assistant Coach Yoo,” She says. “You must be Coach Im.”

“No I’m not.” Jinyoung says, maybe a little more forcefully than he should’ve. He has nothing against Coach Im – scratch that, he _does_. “I’m the temporary coach. Park Jinyoung.”

Assistant Coach Yoo laughs, gum held tightly between her teeth. “Ha, ha, funny.”

“I don’t see what’s funny.”

“Oh.” The woman frowns. “I thought you were making a joke, cause our head coach is Park Jinyoung. You know, _the_ Park Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung’s about to come up with a really good retort when the _other_ Park Jinyoung comes jogging up to them.

“Well if it isn’t my _mini-me_!” The coach says, recognizing Jinyoung instantly. _Obviously_. “I haven’t seen you in years!”

Jinyoung hasn’t seen him in seven years, which has been a good thing on all accounts. “Hello, Coach Park.”

Jinyoung flinches only slightly when Coach Park goes in for a bro hug.

“You know each other?” Assistant Coach Yoo stands to side, looking a little bit miffed that her head coach is being so chummy with the Weevils’ coach.

“Of course!” Coach Park grins from ear to ear like he and Jinyoung are the _best_ of friends. “He’s one of the best players I’ve ever had the pleasure to coach. Couldn’t stay away from the game, could you, _Junior_?”

Jinyoung’s ears turn red. He hopes none of the Weevils heard that terrible nickname.

“We all used to call him Junior,” Coach Park explains to his assistant. “To avoid confusion in the team.”

Assistant Coach Yoo gives Jinyoung a slow elevator look. “You used to go to S----- High?”

“No, of course not.” Jinyoung scoffs. _The_ idea _._ “Coach Park here _used to_ coach the Weevils.”

Assistant Coach Yoo gapes at that.

Coach Park’s smile hardens. “Things were very different back then.”

 

“Hi.”

Chan doesn’t know whether to wave, or shake hands, or what, so he ends up with his hand hanging in the air as he says, “Hi.”

Woojin stares at Chan’s hand, which is trembling. Chan puts it down to his side self-consciously and walks away. He’s not afraid of Woojin.

He’s just afraid in a general sense. For his teammates, mostly.

His teammates are somewhere to his left, trying and failing to argue with their coach about the batting lineup he’s… enforcing.

“No, thank you.” Felix says to the coach.

“It’s not a suggestion, Felix. You’re up first.” Their coach says, a vein bulging on his neck. “Now get a bat and a helmet and go.”

Felix pouts at Chan for help.

“I’ll go first.” Chan says, hand raised.

“No, no, you’re fourth.” Jinyoung hisses, holding up a slightly crumpled convenience store receipt with their last-minute batting lineup scrawled on the back.

“Why?” Jisung pipes up suddenly.

“Because-” Jinyoung heaves a combination of a sigh and a groan. “It’ll take too long for me to explain, just take it as it is, we’re _already_ late, so just listen to me and go!”

Chan doesn’t know what the Bears’ coach had said to their earlier, but it’s really got him on edge. _He’s probably nervous. There’s no way he could really want_ Felix _batting first. No offense to Felix, of course, but it’s for Felix’s own good that he doesn’t…_

“But Coach-” Chan starts.

“No buts! Get your butt over there, Felix, or I’m bumping you down to Team B.” Jinyoung growls.

Chan’s about to mention that they don’t have one of those, but he’s worried about the giant vein in his coach’s neck that looks ready to pop.

“We’re not enough to have a Team B, hyung.” Hyunjin says, lounging on the edge of the bleachers like he has no plans of getting up anytime soon.

“Whatever!” Jinyoung crumples up the receipt/batting lineup in exasperation. “You know what, whatever! Go, Chan, hit a home run for us!”

That last bit had been dripping with so much sarcasm that Chan winced, but the Weevils whoop and cheer regardless.

Chan takes a deep breath. _Home run it is._

“Let’s go Weevils!” He pumps a fist in the air, hoping he doesn’t sound as unsure as he feels.

“LET’S GO WEEVILS!” His teammates cheer back, or at least that’s what Chan thinks they say, because they start and end at different times and are, on the whole, unintelligible.

 

Woojin ignores the noise from the Weevils’ dugout. He cracks his neck, waiting for them to get settled down. They’re not distracting him, they’re just annoying.

He can see the shit-eating grin on Minho’s face through the catcher’s mask. _Speaking of annoying…_

Woojin wishes Minho weren’t so smug about this whole thing, but the trouble is, he has every right to be. This is probably going to be the easiest game they’ve ever won. The Weevils are easy enough to beat during the in season, what more when they’ve just changed coach and haven’t even started practicing, from the looks of it?

His grip on the baseball tenses as the Weevils’ captain steps up to the plate. He doesn’t hear it, but the idiot seems to be paying attention to Minho’s trash talking, because his jaw clenches the way everyone’s does when they’re forced to listen to Minho’s insults.

Woojin rolls his eyes. _Not my problem._

Assistant Coach Yoo, who’s acting as umpire much to the annoyance of the Weevils’ new coach, whistles the start of the game. Woojin drains his mind empty and gets ready to pitch.

_Just relax, Woojin, just do what you always do. You’ve struck out this guy loads of times before._

He takes a breath and winds up to give the Weevil’s captain something he couldn’t possibly hit.

And then Woojin makes the mistake of looking into the other captain’s intense gaze.

_Shit._

The next few seconds play out in slow motion for Woojin. The ball whistles out of his hand just _slightly_ off, and instead of curving down to almost knee level, it flies right into the Weevils’ captain’s bat.

The ball connects with the bat with a satisfying – well, not for Woojin – clang, and flies into the air.

The Weevils’ captain grins at that moment, which makes Woojin’s mouth go dry. Then the other captain starts running to first base like his life depends on it.

“Jeong-!” Woojin shouts, just as the ball hits someone’s glove behind him with a loud thump. _Bless Jeongin._

“OUT!” Assistant Coach Yoo shouts, cutting into the Weevils’ noisy celebration.

Woojin releases his breath. He can see Coach Park frowning at him and Minho making aggressive hand gestures that both basically say, _How could you almost_ give _that away?_

Woojin’s asking himself the same question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect an update this Friday afternoon, at the request of my little sister. Good luck to all the people who have exams to take! 💪


	6. One For The Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ball!” Assistant Coach Yoo’s frown is so deep it looks like it’ll be permanent.
> 
> Woojin curses at himself. The batter is starting to look confident, almost. _As if any of this is your fault._
> 
> _If your captain hadn’t been so passably-kind-of-cute you’d already be back warming the fucking bench._
> 
> _Get it together, Woojin. You can’t seriously be distracted by this loser who isn’t even that cute._ Woojin takes a breath. _One more strike. Just one more strike._

“Sorry guys,” Chan shrugs as casually as he can when he walks back to the dugout. He claps Changbin on the arm before the latter step up to bat.

“Don’t be! You actually _hit_ the ball!” Jisung claps him on the back as they scoot to make space for him on the bench.

“Yeah! If that _other_ guy hadn’t caught it, it would’ve been a home run for sure!”

Chan sees their coach roll his eyes so hard Chan’s afraid his eyes are going to pop out.

“That _other_ guy was doing his job. And well,” Their coach mutters. “Which you all need to work on.”

Chan watches his teammates deflate slightly, because no one can argue with that. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “GO CHANGBIN!”

“YEAH! GO CHANGBIN!”

“CHANGBIN FIIIIIIIIGHT!”

“YAAAAAS KING!” Felix squawks, earning a sharp look from Changbin on the plate.

 

Woojin is having a decidedly bad day.

He’s stopped looking in Coach Park’s direction ten pitches ago, because eight had been absolutely terrible and the Weevils had fucking _walked_.

Woojin’s not let anyone _walk_ since he was ten years old. And just today he’d let two of the worst players in the entire country slip past him.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Jeongin asks, getting a little skittish behind him.

“Watch the one on first.” Woojin snaps at the kid, a thousand times more anxious.

He looks down at his hand. _Why are you not working today?_

Assistant Coach Yoo whistles at him impatiently.

“Sorry.” Woojin blurts out. _Why am I acting like this?_ He cracks his shoulders and winds up, hoping his body listens to what his brain’s been screaming for the past few minutes.

He glances at the Weevil batting. The guy’s also staring at him like he’s trying to set Woojin on fire with his eyes, but it doesn’t bother Woojin this time.

_What the hell happened last time?_

Woojin lets the ball go.

It flies straight for a while, then spins down to drop near the batter’s knee.

“STRIKE!” Assistant Coach Yoo calls out giddily.

The batter curses and gets ready for another one.

This time Woojin aims higher, letting the ball fly over the batter’s useless swing. He smiles. _That’s more like it._

“STRRRIKE!” Assistant Coach Yoo shouts.

Woojin’s ready to put this Weevil back on the bench when he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye.

“WE LOVE YOU, JISUNG!” The Weevils’ captain shouts, standing on the bench like a fool.

Woojin glares at the other captain.

“Oh, sorry!” The Weevils’ captain waves at him. “Go Jisung!”

Woojin turns back to the game. He knows his problem now. _It’s that stupid Captain. He’s so irritatingly positive, supportive, and slightly-above-average-looking_. It’s throwing Woojin’s game off.

Woojin already knows he flubs the pitch as soon as the ball leaves his hand.

“Ball!” Assistant Coach Yoo calls out, less enthusiastically.

Woojin tries again, he tries to shut out the other captain’s corny encouragements, like how he usually shuts out all noise during an important game, but he can’t do it. _And this isn’t even an important game._

“Ball!” Assistant Coach Yoo’s frown is so deep it looks like it’ll be permanent.

Woojin curses at himself. The batter is starting to look confident, almost. _As if any of this is your fault._

_If your captain hadn’t been so passably-kind-of-cute you’d already be back warming the fucking bench._

_Get it together, Woojin. You can’t seriously be distracted by this loser who isn’t even_ that _cute._ Woojin takes a breath. _One more strike. Just one more strike._

“Ball!”

The Weevils’ dugout is a cacophonic mess. You’d have thought that they’d just won the entire championship from the noise in there. But then again, they’ve got the bases loaded after just four batters.

_This is just a friendly match,_ Woojin reminds himself. _It doesn’t matter in the long run._

But it still stings when the Weevils’ batter walks calmly to first, waving at his cheering teammates like a beauty queen.

“It’s okay, Cap,” Jeongin puts a hand on Woojin’s shoulder. “We’ll get them this time.”

Woojin knows things are bad when a _freshman’s_ comforting him. He jerks the hand off his shoulder. “We are _not_ letting them score.”

 

“I’m ready to go, Coach.” Felix announces, standing up when Jisung walks to first.

The look their coach gives him could’ve curdled cream. “No.”

Felix is baffled. “But didn’t you want me to-”

“Not when we’ve got the bases loaded… Somehow.” Their coach looks out at the field again, like he’s worried that he’ll blink and everyone on the bases will vanish. Their coach pats one of Felix’s other teammates on the shoulder. “You go.”

The teammate looks at Felix, who pouts.

“I think Felix should go.” Their captain says. Felix beams. He would take a bullet for Chan.

“No. We might not have the chance to score again,” Jinyoung says. “You. Go.”

“But Felix-”

“Who’s the coach here? You or me?”

Felix gulps. Their new coach is a lot scarier than the old one. Granted, he’d only met the old one once or twice, but Coach Im had seemed nicer. And less shouty and angry.

Felix feels bad for their captain, who’s always got to stand up for them to the coach.

“It’s okay, Cap,” Felix pats Chan on the arm. “I’ll just take my turn later.”

“Hey _Junior_!” The Bears’ assistant coach shouts at them. “What’s the holdup?”

Felix doesn’t know why she keeps calling their coach that, but he seems pretty pissed. _Maybe it’s an inside joke and they’re actually friends._

Felix realizes that their coach is looking at him weird. It’s highkey scary, and it’s making Felix want to exit his body. “Um…”

“Felix, go.”

 

Felix stumbles on his way to the plate. He looks back nervously, hoping no one noticed.

“You’re supposed to be facing this way, bozo,” The Bears’ catcher sneers.

Felix frowns at him. He’s never done anything to this guy, he has no reason to be a bitch.

“I know.” Felix grumbles, putting on the helmet and picking up the bat. This one’s a lot heavier than the ones they have, and he’s having trouble holding it up.

“What are you, playing cricket?” The Bears’ catcher says.

“Shut up.” Felix stomps in the dirt to kick up some dust.

The Bear’s catcher waves it away, scowling. Felix feels a little better, then he looks at the Bears’ pitcher.

_Okay, that guy is_ scary. The Bears’ pitcher looks like a guy who was raised without marshmallows or hugs.

His expression somehow gets _harder_ as he winds up to pitch.

Felix isn’t expecting the ball to be _that_ fast.

“Eep!” Felix cowers on instinct, protecting himself with the bat.

There’s this loud sound, and Felix gets pushed back a little bit in the dirt, and he has no idea what’s going on.

“RUN, FELIX, RUN!” Chan screams from the bench.

“What?”

“RUN!”

Felix doesn’t need to be told thrice. He starts scrambling for the first base.

 

“Home! _Home_! _HOME_!” Woojin shouts, throwing his hands aggressively in Minho’s direction. He’s never seen anyone bunt the way the Weevil at bat did, and he’s never seen the ball fly off in such an aimless, weird way. Jeongin hadn’t either, so it had managed to get between them, embarrassingly enough.

He’s never seen a runner intercept the ball like the Weevil on second base had, with his _skull_. The ball had bounced off like it had hit rock, and the runner had gone on to third, leaving the ball somewhere in the outfield.

Seungmin on third manages to pick it up, and he’s about to _finally_ pass the ball to Minho, but the runner trips onto the base in front of him, forcing Seungmin to tap him out on instinct.

“OVER HERE!” Minho shrieks, waving his glove in the air.

The ball flies through the air towards him, but the runner on third is also flying towards the home plate, as fast as his short legs can carry him.

Woojin says a silent prayer.

The runner stumbles and rolls in the dirt.

Woojin smiles.

Then the dust clears, and Minho’s expression says it all.

“Safe.” Assistant Coach Yoo mutters.

The Weevils erupt in ear-piercing shrieks.

Woojin notices one of the Weevils on the field blundering between two bases “Minho!”

Minho throws him the ball without even blinking, and Woojin taps the lost Weevil out himself.

 

Jisung runs and tackles Changbin when the Bears’ assistant coach signals the inning over.

“Ow, ow, I think I broke something back there,” Changbin whines, ducking out of the way when Felix goes in for what looks like a kiss.

“Dude, I’m probably concussed or something,” Jisung says, rubbing the side of his head. “But we have _ONE POINT_!”

“ONE POOOOINT!” Chan screams back at them, pulling all of them into a hug when they get back to the dugout.

Jinyoung stands back a safe distance from the bouncing Weevils. “It’s really not a big deal, but okay, whatever, _yay_. Everyone remember their positions?”

The boys nod, still high on their first point against the Bears, _ever_.

Hyunjin raises his hand. “I think Chan should pitch.”

Jinyoung slaps his hand away. “And _why_?”

“I always do it, Coach,” Chan says. “It’s okay.”

“It is _not_ okay.” Jinyoung snarls. “I have _not_ wasted entire afternoons teaching you to pitch for you not to-”

“I’m good at left outfield.” Hyunjin says.

“You are _not_ playing left fucking outfield.”

“I can do it if Hyunjin’s not feeling confident, Coach,” Chan says gently. “He’s probably nervous-”

“He’s probably being a little bitch is what you mean.” Jinyoung says. “Pitch or you’re walking home.”

“Why do you have to be like this?” Hyunjin groans.

“Really, Coach,” Chan insists. “I can do it.”

“Hey _Junior_!” Assistant Coach Yoo calls. “We don’t have all day!”

“Why does she keep calling you that?” Jisung asks.

Jinyoung clenches his teeth. “Whatever! Fine! Don’t listen to me! I don’t know why you even asked me to coach if you aren’t going to listen to me!”

“Coach…” Chan frowns.

“Come on, dude, ignore him.” Hyunjin grumbles, pulling Chan with him towards the diamond.

“Yeah! Ignore me!” Jinyoung after him. “That’s the only thing you’re good at!”


	7. “What’s a weevil, anyway?” – Yang Jeongin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woojin’s usually too exhausted to dream, much less remember his dreams. But he wakes up one morning a week later with his heart racing.
> 
>  
> 
> _Nope._
> 
>  
> 
> Woojin sits up. _Is this what guilt feels like? Dreaming about less-than-handsome other team captains kissing you? With tongue?_

Woojin’s car is caught in traffic on the way home from the match. _Great. Just great._

“What’s going on?” He asks the chauffeur.

“An accident, sir.” The chauffeur replies. He’s not the type to say more than three words at a time, “sir” included, which leaves Woojin alone with his thoughts.

Which, today, is a bad idea.

 

_“Good game,” The Weevils’ captain had said, shaking Woojin’s hand after the match._

_His hand is as sweaty and gross as that time in the movie theater. Not that Woojin fixates on that._

_“Yeah, good game,” Woojin murmurs back._

_“So I guess the field’s yours.” The Weevils’ captain looks wistfully around the field._

_“It’s always been,” Is what Woojin would normally have said. But the other captain looks so dejected and deflated, it’s like he’s a whole foot shorter than Woojin now._

_Woojin feels worse than he ever has about winning. “Not without a fight,” He says, frowning at himself for saying that._

_The Weevils’ captain smiles at that. “Bet you’ve never seen us play this hard, huh?”_

_“You new coach seems good.”_

_“Yeah, he is.” The Weevils’ captain gives Woojin a lopsided, silly kind of grimace. “We should probably listen to him more.”_

_“Yeah, maybe you should.” Woojin stops himself from smiling back. “I mean, as your opponent, I don’t want you to. You might beat us next time.”_

Woojin, what the _hell_ are you saying?

_“Oh, I doubt that,” The Weevils’ captain laughs. He puts up two thumbs. “You guys are the best.”_

_Woojin opens his mouth to say something, but someone screams “CAP! LET’S GO!” at the Weevils’ captain, saving Woojin from saying anything else self-incriminating._

_“Oh, I got to go,” The Weevils’ captain says. “See you on the 14th?”_

_Woojin freezes. “What?”_

_“Prelims.”_

_“Oh. Right. See you then.”_

 

Woojin knocks his forehead against the window of the car. _You are an embarrassment, Kim Woojin._

“What was that, sir?”

“Nothing,” Woojin mutters, sinking in his seat.

 

“Kim Woojin, someone’s here to see you.”

Woojin looks up from his calculus exam. Some of his classmates look up curiously, too, because Woojin isn’t the sort of student who’s called out of class often.

 _Ever, actually_. Woojin puts his mechanical pencil away and gets up, straightening out his blazer. He acknowledges his teacher with a nod before stepping out the door.

The last person he expects to see is Coach Park.

“Coach,” Woojin says, almost too startled to bow. “I, uh, you wanted to see me?”

“Of course I-” Coach Park notices one of Woojin’s classmates watching them through the classroom door’s window. “Let’s go for a walk.”

 _Shit_. Woojin falters. “I was in the middle of a test, Coach.”

“This is more important than a test,” Coach Park says sternly. “This is your _future_.”

 _I’d been led to believe they were one and the same_ , is what Woojin thinks, but he’d die before he ever said that to _Coach Park_.

“What of it, sir?”

“Your performance yesterday was terrible. It was crap, really.” Coach Park says. “That kind of playing wouldn’t get you into a technical college. You can forget universities if you keep screwing up like that.”

 _It was_ one _time_ , is what Woojin wants to say.

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

“It had better not.” Coach Park’s frown eases up only very slightly. “You can’t take it easy this year. The universities will be watching you the entire season. If they aren’t impressed by your performance this year, then the past three will have been a waste.”

_I doubt they’ll be impressed if I fail calculus, either._

Coach Park’s expression changes, and Woojin can no longer read it, which scares him more.

“I have other pitchers, you know.” Coach Park says. “Yang could easily replace you. He’s more consistent.”

“But he’s a freshman.” Woojin stops. “I thought we wanted the universities to pay attention to me because I’m a senior. And I’m going to college in a year?”

“If you keep messing up like yesterday, I might be forced to put Yang in for the sake of the team.”

“You mean you’re going to ruin my future just to save the team’s reputation?” Woojin says, before he can stop himself. _Shut up, shut up, shut up._

Coach Park laughs then, but it’s not a friendly laugh. “Baseball is a _team sport_ , Woojin. You should know that, of all people. Players are expendable.”

 

“Heya, Cap!”

Woojin stops pushing his food around aimlessly to smile at the freshman dumping all his books on Woojin’s table. “Hi, Jeongin.”

“Mom really doesn’t know when to quit. She must think I’m _five_ people.” Jeongin sighs, opening his overstuffed lunch box. “You want some?”

“No thanks.” Woojin goes back to pushing his own lunch around without taking a single bite.

“Kay,” Jeongin shrugs, starting to dig into one of his five lunches. “How was the _calculating_ exam?”

Woojin cracks a smile. “Calculus.”

“Yeah, same thing.” Jeongin grimaces as he pulls a stray eggshell out of his mouth. “Gosh, _Mom_. She must think her son’s a velociraptor, too.”

“What?” Woojin smiles again, the second time today. His other classmates think it’s either weird or weirdly charitable of him to eat lunch with some freshman every day, but Jeongin’s the only person he feels like tolerating these days.

“You know, velociraptors,” Jeongin makes weird clawing motions with his hands. “ _Jurassic Park_?”

“Oh.” Woojin laughs.

“Wait, you didn’t answer me,” Jeongin says, biting into another piece of omelette with a loud crunch. He makes a face as he asks, “How was your calculating exam?”

“Terrible,” Woojin says, though he’s not talking about the test. It was fine, really.

“Well, you’re never going to use it in real life anyway, right?” Jeongin says. “That’s what my teacher said when I asked her enough times- MOM _, PLEASE!_ ”

Jeongin sticks his tongue out, removing almost half an entire eggshell. “You think she just throws the everything into a pan and hopes for the best?”

“I’m sure she’s doing her best.” Woojin laughs, pushing his lunch box in Jeongin’s direction. “Want some?”

“Don’t mind if I do, Cap,” Jeongin grins from ear to ear as he takes a few slices of steak from Woojin’s lunch. “You’re so lucky your mom hired a cook instead of poisoning you.”

“Yeah.” Woojin says bitterly. “I am.”

 

Woojin’s mom is standing in the hall, sniffing the air, when Woojin gets home from training. The head of housekeeping and three maids are standing in a line by the wall, anxiously sniffing the air as well.

“Hi, Mom.” Woojin bends to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hello, dear,” Woojin’s mom says, grabbing Woojin by the sweaty shirt and giving him a good sniff. “No, no, it’s not you, you just need a shower.”

“What isn’t me?”

“Something smells _off_. Like a fish market,” Woojin’s mom scrunches up her nose. The closest she’s been to a fish market, as far as Woojin knows, is that store where she buys her pearl necklaces.

Woojin smiles and leans into the flowers arranged in a giant vase by the door. He picks out a few sprigs of something that looks like dill. “Is it this, Mom?”

Woojin’s mom sniffs the sprig, but stops mid-sniff and backs almost a meter away. “Yes! Oh, it’s _terrible_.”

“Please take these out of the flowers,” Woojin asks the housekeeping staff. “And please let the florist know Mom hates this… thing.”

“It looks more like it should be in a salad than a vase,” The head of housekeeping says, taking the sprig from Woojin. He and the three maids rush off to check the other vases around the house.

“A salad? Oh please. Who would ever eat _that_?” Woojin’s mom gasps, collapsing dramatically into the nearest lounge chair. She sits up suddenly. “Ow, ow, ow.”

She winces as she pulls something out from under her. “What is this…”

Woojin has to physically stop himself from sighing when she gasps and starts jumping around.

“Oh! My phone! I’ve been looking for this _all day_ ,” She says, clutching the cellphone to her chest. “Woojin, darling, please tell the help to stop looking for it.”

“Yes, Mom.” Woojin turns to go look for the head of housekeeping, wherever he may be hunting for herbs in the floral arrangements.

 

Woojin’s usually too exhausted to dream, much less remember his dreams. But he wakes up one morning a week later with his heart racing.

_Nope._

Woojin sits up. _Is this what_ guilt _feels like? Dreaming about less-than-handsome other team captains kissing you? With tongue?_

He doesn’t tell anyone about his dream – nightmare? – for obvious reasons, but the entire universe seems to be conspiring against him today.

“Did you hear?” Minho asks, sliding into Woojin’s table at the library. Woojin’s been staring at a page in his economics book for the past half hour, trying to absorb it somehow.

“Hear what?” Jeongin asks. He’d been sitting across Woojin for the past half hour with a book lying open in front of him, but his 3DS is perched on top of the book.

“We’re sharing the pre-season training camp this year.” Minho says, waggling his eyebrows. “With the W----- High guys.”

Woojin blinks.

“Really?” Jeongin asks, turning to Woojin. “I thought our school was always alone?”

“Yeah, we are. Usually.” Woojin frowns. “Where’d you get that, Minho?”

“I, uh, heard it from somewhere,” Minho shrugs, suddenly getting up. “I’m gonna go tell the others.”

“Wait-”

Minho’s already running out of the library.

 

“I don’t know what you boys have heard, but leave the gossiping to the women.” Coach Park barks out while the team stretches.

“What’s he being sexist about now?” Jeongin whispers, hopping around on one foot while he stretches one leg.

“Who cares,” Woojin mutters.

“Our training camp will be an exclusive event, as always.” Coach Park says, walking down the line of stretching boys. “And far too expensive for _less fortunate_ teams to afford, I’m sure.”

Minho rolls his eyes at Woojin when their coach says that. “It sure is nice to be rich, huh?”

“Don’t be weird.” Woojin hops on one foot to face away from him.

“That’s like telling Minho to stop breathing.” One of their other teammates says as he stretches one leg.

“Eat shit, Changmin,” Minho says sweetly, tipping that teammate off balance.

Woojin walks off to stretch as far away from Coach Park’s gaze as he can, but the man seems to have long-range x-ray vision.

“If they can’t afford a field, how can they afford our training camp?” Jeongin asks, hopping on one foot to stretch next to Woojin.

“Whom?” Woojin asks, playing dumb.

“The Weevils,” Jeongin says. “What’s a weevil, anyway?”

“It’s a kind of rice pest,” Seungmin says. Woojin and Jeongin hadn’t even noticed him on the patch of grass next to them.

“Is it?” Woojin smiles for a moment, then his mind is flooded with the Rice Pest Team’s captain’s passably-okay-looking face.

“Why would anyone pick _that_ for a mascot?” Jeongin makes a face.

“Beats me,” Seungmin shrugs. “They must have a good reason to keep it, anyhow.”

“It suits them.” Woojin says, stretching one leg until it aches a little more to try to clear his mind. But then he starts wondering if the Weevils’ captain is as good a kisser as he was in Woojin’s dream… nightmare.

“We’re going to be stuck with them for _three days_ ,” Jeongin notes, as if he’s read Woojin’s messy mind.

Woojin takes a sharp intake of breath. _Three days sharing a camp with the Weevils’ fairly attractive captain._

“We won’t be.” Woojin says firmly, more for himself than for the freshman. “There’s no way Coach Park won’t get what he wants.”

 

Woojin feels a weird kind of satisfied when they step off the bus to find a dusty rental mini-bus already parked in the camp. In the distance a small group of boys their age in mismatching clothes are giggling and screaming while playing the worst throw-and-catch the Bears had ever seen. They only know one high school baseball team _that_ inept.

 _Coach Park’s grinding his teeth so hard they must be as flat as a cow’s at this point_ , Woojin thinks, a smile making its way across his face as Coach Park storms over to the camp’s low cabin.

A small man wearing an all-white uniform and carrying a clipboard jogs out of the cabin to stop them, arms spread wide. “I’m sorry, do you have a reservation-”

“Yes, I’m Park Jinyoung, I spoke with you on the phone-” Coach Park scowls. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re… already here?” The man frowns down at the clipboard.

“Excuse me?”

The man turns the clipboard around. Sure enough, someone’s already signed the guest log as _Park Jinyoung (Coach)_.

“That’s- That’s not-” Coach Park sputters, then he freezes suddenly. Woojin’s vaguely worried the man’s had some kind of stroke, but then the coach starts hooting with laughter.

Woojin and his teammates back away further. Coach Park’s laugh is _not_ a pleasant sound.

“ _Park Jinyoung!_ ” Coach Park slaps his knee, like it’s the funniest thing ever. “Park! Jin! Young! Ha ha! _Park Jinyoung_ is going to get a piece of my mind!”

Woojin’s teammates part like the Red Sea to let their Coach storm the field where the Weevils are playing.

The man with the clipboard’s expression changes suddenly to worry. “Jinyoung’s _fucked_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY we have hit the Woojin POVs.,,,, the first of many 
> 
> im so sorry Christopher Bang but I like Woojin's side better


	8. “Forget Changbin! Changbin’s dead!” – Han Jisung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, boys, you see that small peach building there? Yes? Okay, I want you to move your stuff in there and spread out as _much_ as you can. Make it _impossible_ for anyone to throw us out.”
> 
> The rest of the team runs off to get their things from the minibus without question, but Chan taps their coach lightly on the arm. “Um, Coach?”
> 
> “Yes, Captain?”
> 
> “We do have this place reserved, right?” 
> 
> Chan frowns when the coach and the man with the clipboard break out in hacking laughter.

_Two days earlier_

“Chan!”

It takes Chan a moment to connect the dots as he turns around. He’s in school, he knows that, but for some reason, the person calling him sounds an awful _lot_ like their coach.

And it is.

“Coach?”

“Oh, thank god,” Hyunjin’s brother trots up to him, ignoring the strange looks the students are giving him. “It’s like they flipped this place upside down or something.”

“W- What are you doing here?” Chan catches himself. _That doesn’t sound nice._ “I mean, no offense-”

“Where’s the vice principal’s office these days?” Jinyoung asks.

“Um, just down here- I can take you there, actually.” Chan murmurs a quick apology to his friends then leads the disgruntled coach down the hallway. It’s well into Chan’s lunch break, but Jinyoung looks like he just rolled out of bed, put on a clean shirt, and drove to the school half-awake. “Why do you need to see the vice principal?”

“For you guys, obviously,” Jinyoung says, dodging a group of freshmen goggle-eyeing him. “Why else would I go back _here_?”

“To see how your old school is doing?” Chan offers helpfully. “Reminisce the good times?”

“ _Good times_ ,” Jinyoung scoffs as they reach the door to the vice principal’s office. “Never heard of them.”

Chan tips back and forth on his heels. He likes Hyunjin’s older brother, despite everything. But he wonders who on earth _hurt_ him this bad.

“Vice Principal Bae’s a little scary,” Chan warns the coach.

Jinyoung smiles. “You think I can’t handle a little scary?”

“Oh.” Chan blushes to his ears. _Stupid. Coach Park could probably face the devil himself and just roll his eyes._ “Sorry.”

“Thanks for showing me around. You can go back to your friends now,” Jinyoung smirks. “And enjoy your _good times_.”

“Oh, uh, okay, thanks, Coach.” Chan starts down the hallway. He knows it’s a big reach, but he wants to help Coach Park. Somehow.

He stops in his tracks when he hears a loud noise when the vice principal’s door swings open.

“Park Jinyooooung!” The vice principal squeals, skittering out of her office in her dangerous high heels to fling her arms around the Weevils’ coach.

“Keep yourself together, woman,” The coach laughs, leading her back into the office and shutting the door, leaving Chan standing the hallway utterly confused.

 

Chan finds Hyunjin eating lunch in a tree beside the football field. Chan and his friends – the captains of the football, volleyball, and swimming varsities – had taken all the freshmen under their wing last year, as they always do, but Hyunjin had refused every offer to hang out with them during breaks.

_Refuse_ is a strong word. Hyunjin would simply reply in a polite grunt or shrug then go off to climb a tree and eat his sandwich.

“He’s weird,” Changbin had said.

“Don’t be mean.” Chan had chided him.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Changbin had shrugged. “The guy’s weird. Let him be weird. Don’t force him to be normal.”

So Chan had.

But still, he can’t imagine someone being happy having lunch alone in a tree. No matter how nice the tree is, it’s not _real_ company.  

“Hyunjin!” Chan shouts up at the sophomore.

Hyunjin had seen Chan making his way across the field, obviously. So he’d taken the courtesy to climb a few boughs down, so he could be within shouting distance. “Yeah?” He shouts back.

“I-” Chan feels more than a bit awkward shouting here like this. “I saw your brother!”

Hyunjin looks confused, and climbs down another bough. “My brother?”

“Yeah!” Chan cups his hands around his mouth. “He came to see Vice Principal Bae!”

“Whom?”

“He went to see- You know what, I’m just gonna…” Chan empties his pockets, dropping his phone and wallet on the grass. He reaches up for a bough and braces a foot against the tree.

“Wait, be careful-” Hyunjin starts, reaching down to help Chan up. When the latter is sitting, panting as he hugs the trunk, Hyunjin says, “You didn’t have to come up here.”

“No, it’s okay.” Chan says, staring Hyunjin in the eyes to keep himself from looking down. “I just wanted to ask why Coach went to see Vice Principal Bae?”

Hyunjin frowns. “Vice Principal Bae?”

“Yeah, he said it was for us, but I don’t know what he meant by that.” Chan’s hands are trembling. _Don’t look down, don’t look down._ But the more he thinks about it, the more he finds his eyes darting earthward. _It’s like when you’re trying to hold your pee, and it gets harder the more you think about not peeing._ “He didn’t tell you anything?”

Hyunjin’s mouth turns almost into a scowl when he says, “No.”

_Chan, you dumbass._

Hyunjin and his brother had been fighting since the game against the Weevils. Coach Park had seemed really upset that Hyunjin had insisted he play left outfield, which, as far as Chan’s seen, Hyunjin is _excellent_ at. _Hyunjin plays left outfield better than anyone else on the team does at any of the other positions, including_ , Chan had noted with a mild hint of embarrassment, _me as a pitcher_.

“Sorry.” Chan says, a little too late. He turns to go, then realizes he has no idea how to get down.

He looks at Hyunjin again. “Um…”

“Do you need help getting down?”

Chan nods slowly.

He only breathes again when his feet are on solid ground. He kind of heaves and breath and his knees get wobbly, but he’s not about to pass out from half-climbing a tree.

“Uh, Hyunjin?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you not tell anyone about…” Chan doesn’t know how to rephrase _‘the fact that I nearly fainted in your arms and you had to carry my nearly lifeless body down a tree and your hands are now more acquainted with my butt than anyone else’s but it’s not weird, I don’t have a problem with that, everything’s chill_ ’. “…This.”

“No problem.” Hyunjin smiles at him.

 

_Present_

Chan hadn’t known what to think when their coach had announced that they would be going to a three-day training camp before the start of the season. Oh, he had _one_ thought (“We don’t have enough money for that”), but then their coach had said that the entire camp would be subsidized by the school.

The rest of the boys had cheered and clapped their hands like seals, but Chan had approached the coach after training to ask him where they got the money.

“From the school,” The coach had said, like it was a non-issue.

“But they…” _Wouldn’t give us a cent,_ is what Chan had been too embarrassed to say. “Don’t usually give out that much money.”

“Be nice to your teachers,” The coach had said with a small smirk. “It pays off in the end.”

Chan glances at their coach again now, as their rented minibus zooms through the empty country road. The boys at the back are unusually quiet for a field trip, but they aren’t sleeping either. They’re all braced for impact, their faces varying shades of pale and blotchy and fucking terrified.

“Maybe we could stay a little bit closer to the speed limit, Coach,” Chan suggests gently, only holding onto the bottom of the passenger’s seat, because he doesn’t want to offend their coach’s driving.

“Speed limits only exist in the city,” Jinyoung assures him. “Besides, we _have_ to get there first.”

Chan grips his seat tighter as they swerve sharply to avoid a rock in the middle of the road. “But we have a reservation, don’t we?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

 

“Dude!” A man in an all-white uniform that looks a little like a tennis uniform runs out of a low log cabin when they arrive at the camp. He whacks the Weevils’ coach with a clipboard. “The fuck took you so long?”

“Traffic.” Jinyoung pats Changbin’s back while the latter heaves up his lunch at the side of the road. “Let it all out, little guy, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“I feel like dying.” Changbin mutters, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

The man reaches into a pocket and hands Changbin a bottle of water. He holds the clipboard out to the Weevils’ coach. “Coach Park and the _Brats_ just called. They’ll be here soon.”

“Shit.” The Weevils’ coach turns to Chan and the others. “Okay, boys, you see that small peach building there? Yes? Okay, I want you to move your stuff in there and spread out as _much_ as you can. Make it _impossible_ for anyone to throw us out.”

The rest of the team runs off to get their things from the minibus without question, but Chan taps their coach lightly on the arm. “Um, Coach?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“We _do_ have this place reserved, right?”

Chan frowns when the coach and the man with the clipboard break out in hacking laughter. Coach Park even slaps Changbin playfully on the back, making the latter sputter and cough.

“Oh, sorry, Changbin,” Jinyoung says, rubbing Changbin’s back more gently. “You should probably go and rest in the cabin. That’s the peach one over there. You see it? Yeah, just lie down in such a way that no one can make you _un_ -lie down, you understand?”

Changbin nods slowly, like it’s making him sick to move his head around.

When Changbin’s out of earshot, Chan turns back to Hyunjin’s brother. “Coach, what’s going on?”

The man with the clipboard taps his clipboard curiously. “You mean you didn’t tell them?”

“They’re _good_ kids,” Jinyoung says with a strange look, like he’d sucked on a lemon. “They probably would’ve said no.”

“Said no to what?” Chan asks, crossing his arms.

The man with the clipboard laughs, nudging the Weevils’ coach. “Dude, this kid looks like he could probably _suplex_ you, I don’t think you should leave him hanging.”

Chan frowns at that. He always thought he looked pleasant enough, not like a coach-suplexing delinquent.

“Fine, fine,” Jinyoung makes a sour look again, like it’s paining him to tell the truth. “Mark here was my teammate in high school.”

“Nice to meet you,” Chan says, extending a hand. “I’m Bang Chan, I’m the captain now.”

Mark takes his hand and shakes it. “Damn, W----- High teaches kids to be polite now, does it?”

Chan’s cheeks and ears flush bright red.

“Anyway, Mark can explain everything. I should check on Changbin.” Jinyoung says, running off before Chan can even think of stopping him.

Mark watches his ex-teammate go with a smile. “He still runs like someone’s set a fire under his ass.”

“Let me get this straight,” Chan says. Nothing can stray him from the point when he’s focused on something. “We don’t actually have a reservation here and we’re using someone else’s?”

Mark snaps his fingers. “Atta boy. And it’s not just anyone else’s. It’s Coach Park’s. I mean, the S----- High Coach Park.”

Chan frowns. That’s a guy he _doesn’t_ want to get on the bad side off. He gives off the vibe that he would suplex Chan, his coach, Mark the camp coordinator, and every last member of the Weevils’ team without a second thought.

“But why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mark’s easy smile disappears. “We hate him.”

 

Chan tosses a ball slowly, and almost right into Felix’s glove, but the latter squeezes his glove shut, sending the ball flying up and backwards into the shrubbery at the edge of the field. He watches Felix scramble through the bushes, and he’s about to help when he sees a bus roll through the camp’s gates. It’s got a giant cartoon bear on the side, and large white letters that read out _S----- HIGH GROWLING BEARS._

“Shit.” Jisung says from beside Chan. He’s waiting for his partner to find the ball he was supposed to catch, too.

Chan had gotten all the boys into a huddle and explained the situation. They didn’t seem to disapprove of their Coach’s plan as much as Chan does, but they all agreed: since they’re in the middle of nowhere and Coach Park is the only one with a license, they’re all effectively kidnapped for the next three days.

“What do we do, Cap?” Jisung asks, nudging Chan with his glove.

“I’m sure Coach and the coordinator have a plan.” Chan says, though he’s probably less than half sure. Less than a quarter sure.

He’s not sure at all.

 

Chan runs towards the commotion at the low peach building, followed by all the Weevils except Felix, who’s still burrowing for that baseball. The Bears are all standing a safe distance from the door of the building, like onlookers to an impending volcanic eruption. Like volcano watchers, they all look ready to turn and run away at any second.

Chan catches the eye of the Bears’ captain, but the latter looks away immediately, his expression sour.

The crowd of Bears has parted to let him through, but before he gets to the door he hears a loud crash from inside the innocuous peach building.

“Don’t go in there, man,” Jisung says, grabbing the back of Chan’s jersey. “You’re the only adult we’ll have if Coach Park gets killed.”

“I’m _seventeen_.” Chan says, trying to wriggle out of Jisung’s grasp.

“Close enough.” Jisung says, using both hands to try to hold Chan back, but his sneakers are already scraping forward on the dirt.

“Changbin’s in there.” Chan says firmly, dragging Jisung with him as he makes his way to the door.

“Forget Changbin! Changbin’s _dead_!”

“ _What_?” Felix squeaks from the back of the crowd, having only just found the lost baseball.

“He’s joking.” Chan says quickly, worried Felix will fly into the peach building if he finds out anything’s happened to his favorite upperclassman.

“Oh.”

The door flies open suddenly, and both the Bears and the Weevils scatter off backward.

“Coach Park?” Chan and the Bears’ captain call out at once, before shooting each other annoyed looks.

Coach Park emerges from the building looking red-faced, sweaty, and deeply upset. “I’m not paid enough for this kind of bullshit!”


	9. Sharing Is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We’re not going to survive one day, much less three, if they’re going to be like this,_ Woojin thinks.
> 
> Woojin tugs his glove off. “Wait here.” He says to Minho.
> 
> “Sure thing, Captain.” Minho smiles as Woojin starts stomping upfield, to where the Weevils are disturbing some of their teammates’ batting practice.
> 
> “Cap,” Jeongin says, jogging next to Woojin to keep up with Woojin’s angry strides. “Are you gonna beat them up? Want me to get a bat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m always playing this sharing-a-camp gambit, aren’t I? I’m getting so Basic©

Shortly afterward, Mark had materialized to offer that all the adults go into his cabin for some coffee to talk things over, like _adults_.

The Bears’ coach had grumbled and huffed all the way, but he’d gone to log cabin anyway. The Weevils’ coach and the coordinator had discreetly smacked high-fives behind the older man’s back.

Leaving Chan and his team alone with the Bears.

“Come on, guys, nothing more to see here,” Chan says, rounding up his team. It’s a little like herding sheep. It requires more arm-waving and barking than is dignified. “Let’s go back to the field.”

“I’m sorry,” Someone says from behind Chan. “But that field’s reserved for _us_.”

Chan weighs his options. He could pretend not to have heard that, but that wouldn’t be nice.

“It’s a big field,” Chan says, squaring up to the Bears’ annoying captain. _Damn, he’s tall._ _You look like an idiot, Chan. A middle school idiot._ “We can all share it.” Chan says, as menacingly as he can.

The Bears’ captain backs up a step suddenly. “W- Whatever. Just don’t get in our way.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not planning to.” Chan says.

Woojin opens his mouth as if to say something else, but he seems to decide against it. He spins on his heel and calls out to his teammates, “Get the equipment from the bus. We’re not wasting any more time because of them.”

 

Chan’s blood is boiling, but he’s been trying to keep things together for the sake of the team. A little trash talking, he can take. He’s never been a bad sport – he wouldn’t have survived in the Weevils as long has he has if he hadn’t been able to take a loss. But the way the Bears and their exasperating stuck-up captain look down on Chan and his teammates isn’t something Chan can stomach. Chan know that he and his classmates are nowhere near as rich as the Bears, but they don’t have to go around treating the Weevils like they’re… weevils.

After half an hour of practicing, the Bears have bullied the Weevils into a little corner of the field, with hardly enough space for safe throw-and-catch.

“Everyone! Huddle!” Chan calls out when he’s had _enough_. His teammates take an entire five minutes to form a huddle, because the circle’s too small at first, and then it’s too big, and then someone short ends up on the outside and can’t hear or see anything, and then someone steps on someone’s foot… When that’s all over, Chan puts his arms around them.

“What’s up, Cap?” Felix asks, his face dead serious. It’s a little scary, Chan thinks.

_Scary is good right now._

“You see those smug _Bears_ over there?” Chan asks, nodding to the other two-third of the field, where the Bears have started stretching and doing some drills.

“Yeah.”

“Assholes.”

“What about them?”

“Well, they seem to be taking up a lot of the field, aren’t they?” Chan says.

“You said we would share it with them.”

“I did, but you can hardly call _this_ sharing.” Chan waves a hand in the direction of the Bears taking up more and more of the field as they set up batting nets.

“So what do we do, Cap?”

“They’re too many to take on.”

“And they’re bigger than us.”

“Like, way bigger.”

“No, we’re not going to _fight_ them, we’re not like that.” Chan looks appalled. Then he smirks. “We’re going to give them a lesson on _sharing_.”

 

Woojin’s having an off day, again.

He’s just gotten back into the swing of things after that disastrous game last Monday – Coach Park had even said “Not bad” to him the day before, which is as high a compliment as he ever gives out.

_“It’s a big field. We can all share it.”_

Woojin curses under his breath when he throws another ball that’s just way too high.

“Ball!” Minho calls out, getting out of his squat to run after the ball.

_The Weevil captain didn’t have to stand so fucking_ close _to me._ Woojin didn’t _have_ to know that the other captain had been chewing fruity gum. He didn’t _have_ to know that the other captain’s breath was _really_ fucking warm, like steam off a kettle. He could’ve lived without all that.

He even misses the ball when Minho throws it back at him.

“What the hell is up, Captain?” Minho calls out, flopping onto the grass, tired of waiting and chasing after the ball. Woojin doesn’t blame him. They’re behaving like the fucking Weevils right now. Woojin can see them out of the corner of his eye as he picks up the ball. They can hardly throw, much less catch, but they don’t seem to be having any trouble _laughing_. Their shrieky hyena noises and “Whoops! Sorry!”s every time they miss the ball are seriously pissing Woojin off.

Something whips right in front of Woojin’s face. He blinks for a second, then scowls at the direction where the ball came.

“Sorry!” One of the smaller Weevils chirps from too far away for Woojin to fight. “Could you throw that back please?”

Woojin glances at the Weevil’s beat up… _half_ of a baseball? It’s a meter away from him, whatever it is. He’s confused, but he’s angrier than he is confused so he picks up the half-baseball and hurls it as far away from the Weevil as he possibly can. It almost reaches the opposite treeline before it spirals out of control and falls into the distant shrubbery.

Woojin looks back at the trembling Weevil like, _Fucking try me_. He tosses his own ball back to Minho, who’s snickering.

“That was cold, man.” Minho says catching the perfect pitch with a satisfying smack.

“They’re not even supposed to be here.” Woojin says, catching the ball back from Minho. He’s about to throw it back when someone darts right into his line of fire.

“Sorry! Excuse me!”

Woojin can only glare at the Weevils’ fairly well-built captain jogs past. _He’s not even in a fucking hurry_ , Woojin notes as the other captain seems to cut through every throw-and-catch pair, still shouting, “Sorry! Excuse me! Sorry! Pardon me!”

Woojin heaves a sigh. _They’re not worth your time._

He raises his arm to throw the ball again, feeling another good pitch coming on, but another two of those godforsaken Weevils cut in, jogging after their captain like the hopeless ducklings they are.

“Sorry!”

“Excuse us!”

“Just passing through!”

Woojin puts his arm down, watching them cut through a few more of his teammates’ practice. One of them even trips on a neat stack of bats, sending them rolling across the field.

“They really think they’re so cute, huh?” Minho says, laughing. “Losers.”

“Get ready.” Woojin’s not in a laughing mood. He winds up, but he already knows what’s going to happen. He can see the flood of Weevils out of the corner of his eye. They all jog _slowly_ between him and Minho, shouting apologies and pleasantries.

Woojin has half a mind to just let the pitch go with the stupid fucking Weevils still passing through, but he’s not ready to go to jail yet.

“Get out of the fucking way!” Minho shouts, throwing down his glove and mask. “You guys are fucking annoying!”

Woojin agrees. _We’re not going to survive one day, much less_ three _, if they’re going to be like this._

He tugs his glove off. “Wait here.” He says to Minho.

“Sure thing, Captain.” Minho smiles as Woojin starts stomping upfield, to where the Weevils are disturbing some of their teammates’ batting practice.

“Cap,” Jeongin says, jogging next to Woojin to keep up with Woojin’s angry strides. “Are you gonna beat them up? Want me to get a bat?”

“No thanks.” Woojin grumbles. His other teammates put their hands down and step out of the way partly out of respect and partly out of fear. They were all there the last time Woojin had had a meltdown, and they might not all be the brightest crayons in the box, but they know not to even go near Woojin when he’s like this.

“So you’re just going to go _mano-a-mano_?” Jeongin asks, the only one on the team with absolutely no fear of death or Woojin. “Are we gonna tag team? I’ll be your second-”

“You watch too many movies, Jeongin.” Woojin says, but he’s cracking his knuckles, which makes Jeongin grin with excitement. Woojin’s really just trying to calm himself down, cracking his knuckles again and again in a dull pattern that usually keeps him from blowing up.

“Hey.” Woojin calls out, trying to keep his voice level, but it comes out as a growl. The Weevils’ captain turns, eyebrows lifted innocently.

_Don’t fucking play around, you know exactly what you’re doing._

“I told you to stay out of our way.” The Bears’ captain says.

“Can’t help it if _some_ people are throwing our stuff all the way here,” Chan says. “We’re just looking for our-”

“Stay out of our way.” The Bear’s captain says. “I’m not going to say it again.”

Chan really can’t live with bullies.

“Or what?” Chan asks, shrugging Jisung off when the latter tries to hold him back. He walks up calmly to the Bears’ captain. “What will you do if we don’t?”

The Bears’ captain grinds his teeth. “Don’t try me. Just stay on your side and don’t-”

“You’re the one who’s threatening us.” Chan stands as tall as he can. _You should’ve probably taken more naps as a kid, Chan._ “Are you gonna back it up?”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” The Bears’ captain almost snorts. “Are you seriously asking me to fight you?”

“Why?” _Don’t do this, Chan, stand down, just back out, Chan, DON’T._ “Someone feeling a bit _chicken_?”

The Bears’ captain grins then, looking down at Chan from the tip of his nose. “Don’t flatter yourself. I could take you on if I wanted to.” The other captain’s smile is cruel as he adds, “You’re just not worth it.”

_DON’T DO IT, CHAN!_

It’s too late. Chan’s mind is always a half-step behind his body, which has already gone and tackled the Bears’ captain to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE CHAPTER UPDATE BECAUSE OF THESE TWO BEAUTIFUL PHOTOS THANK YOU LORDE
> 
>   
> 


	10. Tall, Dark, and Sulky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Um.” A timid-looking boy is standing in the doorway. “We have an emergency?”
> 
> “What kind of emergency?” 
> 
> The boy says nothing, but he steps aside and points in the general direction of the field. Mark squints. 
> 
> It’s not very clear because of all the grass and dust that’s being kicked up, but it looks like a tangle of teenage boys trying to kill each other.

Mark is a petty person. He knows this.

When the coach who had terrorized him throughout his entire high school life had shown up at the training camp he worked at a few years ago, Mark had been a bit nervous. He knew that the Coach didn’t have any power over him now – Mark’s a full-blown adult now, taxes and aching knees and all – but the coach still made Mark hold his breath a little. And then the old coach had to go and _not fucking recognize him_. He saw Mark every day for _years_ , and Mark looks exactly the same, so the only possible explanations are that either Coach Park’s age is catching up to him, or he’s just a plain old asshole.

Mark figured it was the latter.

So when one of his old teammates calls him up with a plan to piss off Coach Park Jinyoung and humiliate him just a healthy amount, what’s Mark supposed to say? _No?_

Mark’s also not a great planner, despite that being most of his job description.

So he finds himself watching three cups of coffee get cold while his former teammate and his former coach have a staring match, as they have for the past two hours or so, save for a few bouts of aggravated conversations that led nowhere.

Mark puts on the most diplomatic tone he owns. “Well, I’m sure we can all agree that we’re tired, and this is a huge misunderstanding, but we can work with-”

Someone knocks on the door. _Thank you Jesus,_ Mark thinks, rushing to answer it.

“Um.” A timid-looking boy is standing in the doorway. “We have an emergency?”

“What kind of emergency?”

The boy says nothing, but he steps aside and points in the general direction of the field. Mark squints.

It’s not very clear because of all the grass and dust that’s being kicked up, but it looks like a tangle of teenage boys trying to kill each other.

“Shit.” Mark ducks back into the cabin.

“What is it?” Jinyoung asks.

The older coach frowns at the boy in the door. “Seungmin, what’s happening?”

“I think you have to see it, Coach.”

 

Woojin presses his lower lip gently and winces from the pain. He looks down at his finger, which comes off stained with blood.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Coach Park has the entire team standing in a line before him, dejected and bruised, while he walks up and down, shouting at them nonstop. For just this once, Woojin looks wistfully over at the Weevils, who are sitting on the steps outside the coordinator’s log cabin, laughing quietly among themselves while their coach and captain walk around passing ice packs and cleaning up scratches and wounds.

“Who started it?”

Everyone but Jeongin looks to Woojin.

“They did, Coach.” Jeongin says. “Their captain attacked Woojin.”

Coach Park’s jaw juts out. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, looking almost disappointed at that answer.

_He’s really desperate to get rid of me, isn’t he?_ Woojin thinks, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Captain.”

“Yes, Coach.” Woojin stands at attention with all the discipline of a soldier.

“It was your job as captain to stop this from happening.” Coach Park says, but when Woojin looks into his eyes, he knows that the coach isn’t talking about the fight at all.

Woojin steels his gaze. “Yes, Coach.”

He feels Jeongin flinch next to him, and he flicks the kid gently on the arm to tell him to stay quiet.

“This kind of behavior is just unacceptable.” Coach Park continues. “You know that, right?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“I have no choice but to punish you.”

Woojin doesn’t even blink. “Yes, Coach.”

“But he didn’t even-” Jeongin sputters, before Woojin gives him a hard whack on the arm.

“Stay out of this, Yang, or you’re getting relegated to Team B,” Coach Park snaps, and the freshman cowers a little bit behind Woojin. The coach looks back at Woojin. “Like your captain.”

Woojin clenches his fist. A low gasp passes down the line. Everyone knows Team B is for players that Coach Park doesn’t think will ever amount to anything. They hardly play, and hardly win, and Coach Park only keeps them around to pad Team A’s wins. They don’t even get to join the training camp.

“I may still change my mind if your behavior improves, but as long as you’re a member of Team B, you’ll have to sit out of all the activities for the rest of the camp,” Coach Park says. “Do you understand?”

Woojin holds his jaw steady, but his lower lip trembles. “Yes. Coach.”

 

“Captain!”

Chan puts a hand up to stop Felix from the throwing the ball at him. He jogs up to their coach. “Yes, Coach?”

“Could you check on Changbin, please? He was napping when I left him, but just see how he’s doing.”

“Oh, of course.” Chan bows. He’s desperate to appease Coach Park since he owned up to starting the fight earlier, and Coach Park knows it. He’s been bossing Chan around nonstop for the better part of the past hour.

_“Who started it?” The Weevils’ coach had asked, while dabbing away the blood from a bruise above his brother’s eye._

_Jisung had looked nervously at Chan then, before saying, “What exactly do you mean by_ started _-”_

_“I mean who threw the first punch.” Their coach had sighed._

_“I did, sir.” Chan had stepped forward, getting his entire team behind him._

_Their coach had looked up at Chan then, exchanged an interesting look with his brother, then asked, “Did he deserve it?”_

_“Yes.” Chan had said without a moment’s hesitation._

_The coach had turned back to his brother’s bruise, dabbing a little medicine over it. “Did you at least get him in the nose?”_

_“Uh, no.”_

_“Sucks.” Their coach had said, giving his brother a bag of ice to put over the bruise. “Next time, go for the nose. It’s always humiliating to have a broken nose.”_

_Chan had looked at Jisung, who’d just shrugged like,_ I have no idea what the fuck’s going on, either, man.

_“You’re not… mad, Coach?”_

_“Could you get some more ice for the other boys, Captain?” Their coach had said carelessly._

_“Yes, of course, Coach.” Chan had said, before running off to the cabin._

Chan opens the door to the cabin, which is dim, thanks to the dusty curtains drawn shut over every window. He walks over to the bed nearest the door, where Changbin’s sitting up, staring at his phone.

“How are you feeling?” Chan asks gently.

“There’s no reception here.” Changbin whines.

_Oh, good, he’s fine._

“So what are you doing?”

“Pretending to text.” Changbin says. Then he lowers his voice to a hoarse whisper. “So talk dark and sulky doesn’t bother me.”

Chan follows his teammate’s line of sight to a figure sitting on a bed in the far side of the cabin, the Bears’ side. Chan frowns when he realizes it’s the Bears’ captain, just sitting there, staring straight ahead.

“What’re the others doing now?” Changbin asks.

“Running relays.” Chan says. “You should probably sit it out, still.”

“No, I need the fresh fucking air.” Changbin says, looking pointedly at the other team’s captain.

“I mean, if you think you can-”

“Yup. Bye.” Changbin says, before bolting out of the cabin.

Chan realizes that Changbin’s left him alone in the cabin with the Bears’ captain glaring at him. Chan doesn’t know how to feel about him at this point. He’d overheard their coach demoting him to Team B and telling him he can’t join the rest of the activities, because their coach hadn’t been making a secret of it. He’d _wanted_ everyone to hear, even the Chan and his teammates, just to rub salt in the wound.

However he felt about the other team’s captain, Chan was sure about how he felt about the other team’s coach.

“Hey,” Chan says, making his way across the cabin.

The other captain glares up at him. Chan’s terrified for a second, then he remembers that the Bears’ coach has him on a tight leash, so Chan’s pretty much safe for now.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

The other captain’s brow furrows, then he looks down. “That’s not going to undo anything, is it?”

“No.” Chan admits.

“So what’s the point?”

“I’m already-!” Chan takes a deep breath. _Stay calm, Chan._ You’d _better not start anything._ “Whether you accept my apology or not, I’m still sorry.”

“Well, if it matters to you so much,” The other captain gives him a dry smile. “I _don’t_ accept your apology. So you can go now and join whatever the rest of you losers are doing.”

Chan was already about to leave, but this asshole really had to go and call his teammates _losers_. Chan steps closer. “Don’t-”

“Isn’t that what you are?” The Bears’ captain leans back against the headboard, like he’s egging Chan on. “What else do you call a team that hasn’t won a single match in six seasons?”

Chan can’t help but admire the fact that the Bears’ captain knows the stats of even the worst team in the whole league. He never doubted the guy was smart. But that doesn’t excuse anything else he does.

“Don’t ever talk about my team like that ever again.”

“Or what?” The other captain taunts.

_He really doesn’t know when to quit._

_I guess that’s what someone who’s too used to winning is like._

“I’m not going to fight you, and you’re not going to fight me.” Chan heaves a sigh. “Your coach might kick you off the team this time.”

“Why do you care?”

Chan frowns. _Why the hell would I not? Getting kicked off the team is terrible, no matter who it is._

“Don’t you want that?” The other captain asks. “You might actually have a chance against my school without me on the team.”

Chan breaks into a smile at the sheer concept of the Weevils getting their first win, against the reigning champions, of all people.

“You think too much of yourself.” Chan says.

The door opens then.

 

Woojin can’t wait for the Weevils’ captain to just leave him. He’s too nice, too cute, too close to him, and too much for Woojin to handle right now. Woojin doesn’t know how he’s going to explain to his mother that he got into a fistfight. He doesn’t know how he’s going to explain to his father that he got demoted to Team B. And he don’t know how he’s going to ever accept that he’s got to say goodbye to any chances of a university scholarship.

But when one of the Weevils pops his head in the doorway calling their captain to the field, Woojin’s a little bit irritated.

When the other captain casts one last, _pitying_ look at Woojin, he just loses it.

_How can_ he _pity_ me _? He’s the one who can’t even get one pitch in out of ten._

In horror, Woojin realizes that _he_ hasn’t gotten one pitch in out of ten all day.

Woojin realizes that with the way he’s been fucking up, he’s now as bad as the Weevils’ captain. But _his_ teammates don’t go looking for him when he’s been gone too long. Maybe Jeongin would, if Coach Park would let the kid out of his sight, but there’s no chance of that right now.

Woojin draws his knees up to his chest and hugs them.

And when he’s sure that nobody can hear or see him, and that nobody’s going to come looking for him, he starts crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and nice comments! I've had trouble replying to everyone because work has been Wild, but rest assured I appreciate everything!!! 💕💕💕 
> 
> Also I may be updating twice a week from now on, so sTAY TUNED lmao


	11. Three kittens, two extension cords, and one confused Hyunjin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyunjin’s ready to start heading back when he hears a soft rustle in the leaves behind him.
> 
> Hyunjin turns his phone’s light off and picks up a fork, though he’s not sure what he’s planning to do with it, if ever things come to that. 
> 
> With a slightly louder rustle, something breaks through the bushes. 
> 
> And lets out a low mewl.

Jeongin pokes his food. He can’t see Coach Park watching him like a hawk, because it’s a pretty dark night and the coach is two picnic tables away, but his spidey senses _feel_ it.

“Minho.”

“Mm?” Minho lifts his eyebrows, cheeks stuffed with rice.

“Can you do me a favor?”

Minho chews and swallows before saying, “Favors don’t come free.”

Jeongin stomps his feet on the grass. “Come on, it’s not for _me_!”

Minho shrugs. “Even humanitarian groups need donations.”

“Fine!” Jeongin frowns, looking down at the fried rice in his bowl. _Wait, I have an idea. It’s a good idea? If it works._ “I’ll give you lunch for a week.”

Minho grins. “Sure. What do you want?”

“Can you look for Cap? I haven’t seen him,” Jeongin says. “And I don’t think he’s had dinner yet.”

“Oh, okay.” Minho says, looking genuinely concerned for a change. It worries Jeongin to think that Lee Minho has a heart, though he doesn’t know why.

Minho stuffs the last two spoons of his rice into his mouth and stands up.

“Where are you going, Lee?” Coach Park’s voice booms in the darkness.

“I’m going to take a massive shit, Coach!” Minho announces, earning a few giggles from the Weevils’ tables. Jeongin and Minho’s other teammates wouldn’t _dare_.

 

Hyunjin’s never been forced to eat around a lot of people. He tries, for a few seconds, then he decides it’s not for him. He picks up his food and sneaks away while his brother’s busy trying to stretch out the little food they have among all the boys.

Hyunjin squints up at the trees around the camp. They’re all tall, with no lower branches, and terrible for climbing. He walks around the edge of the camp’s fence, using his phone’s flashlight to lead the way, until he finds a large, flat rock somewhere near the back of the camp. The shrubbery here is dense, and provides a thick curtain between him and everyone else in the camp.

Hyunjin props his phone against a smaller rock on top of the big rock and settles down on the ground, using the big rock as a table.

He smiles as he chews on the rubbery, tough meat his brother and Chan had cooked for them. A small, bluish-black beetle lands on top of the rock and starts crawling towards him.

Hyunjin extends a finger, lowering it onto the rock. The beetle pauses, as if looking up at Hyunjin to judge him for a moment, before turning around and crawling away.

Hyunjin laughs and goes back to his dinner.

He’s just about done with his food, and he’s ready to start heading back when he hears a soft rustle in the leaves behind him.

Hyunjin turns his phone’s light off and picks up a fork, though he’s not sure what he’s planning to do with it, if ever things come to that.

With a slightly louder rustle, something breaks through the bushes.

And lets out a low mewl.

Hyunjin puts the fork down. The kitten is followed by two more scrawny, scraggly kittens. They all seem damp and hungry, desperate enough to sidle up to Hyunjin’s legs and mewl for some food.

“Sorry,” Hyunjin tells the kittens, petting them gently on their heads with one finger. “Where’s your mom?”

The kittens look up with glassy eyes that reflect the little light that’s out tonight.

Hyunjin sits and waits for some time, he’s not sure how long, but no other cats arrive.

He looks down at the kittens nestled around his feet. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

The kittens mewl when he leaves them.

 

“Hyung,” Hyunjin says, catching his brother holding a hose out while Felix and Changbin wash the empty food containers under the stream of water. “Do we have any extra food?”

“No, of course not.” His brother scoffs. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin heads back to the cabin and looks for Jisung. He finds Jisung sitting on the floor of the cabin, dealing cards for a mix of Weevils and Bears playing… blackjack? Hyunjin snickers when he sees the pool of crumpled cash in the middle of the floor.

“Jisung.”

“Kinda busy right now, dude,” Jisung says, his underbite becoming obvious as he deals the cards with all the grace of a seasoned casino employee.

“It’s an emergency.” Hyunjin says urgently, tapping Jisung’s elbow until the latter groans and slaps the deck facedown on the floor.

“If anyone fucking touches the deck, I’m cutting fingers off.” Jisung says, pointing two fingers in a V at all the boys around the circle to let them know he’s got both eyes on them even when he’s not around. He gets up and faces Hyunjin. “What’s up, big guy?”

“Isn’t cutting fingers off kind of medieval?” Hyunjin frowns.

“Come on, you know I could never _really_ do that. I’d fucking pass out before I’d get to the bone.” Jisung whispers as he leads Hyunjin away from his gambling den. “What’s the emergency?”

“I found a bunch of-” Hyunjin decides not to explain. Jisung’s the type to accept things without explanations. Like money, he always accepts money without questions. “I need some food.”

“Oh, same.” Jisung makes a face. “Are we going to beg the Bears?”

Hyunjin nods.

“We should go straight to their weakest link, then.”

 

Hyunjin follows Jisung back out to the picnic tables, where three figures are left sitting in the dark with a dim electric lantern. He doesn’t recognize them, so they must be three Bears.

_Heh. Three Bears. Like Goldilocks._

“Minhooooo,” Jisung lets out in a needy whine. He freezes in place when the other two at the table turn towards him. The one carrying the lantern is the Bears’ captain, who fixes Jisung with a look of pure poison. With the one black eye and the nasty cut on his lip, the effect is extra scary. Jisung stands up ramrod straight. “I’m just going to borrow Minho, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, coming.” The one across the table, which Hyunjin assumes to be Minho, gets up. He grabs Jisung by the arm and starts dragging him away. “You have a death wish or something?”

“Maybe.” Jisung shrugs.

Minho rolls his eyes so hard the whites glint in the light from the now distant lantern. “Don’t even _breathe_ around our captain right now, okay? What do you want?”

“Food.” Jisung says.

Hyunjin admires how straight to the point his friend is.

Minho chews on his bottom lip for a moment, thinking. “We’re out of meat for the night, but we’ve probably got half a cup of rice left.”

“Perfect!” Hyunjin blurts out.

Jisung screws up his face. “Oh, it’s all yours, man. Rice without meat? No thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.” Minho says, before running off into the darkness.

Hyunjin squints up at the sky, trying to look for some stars, but it’s too cloudy.

“Before you ask, I’m not dating Minho.” Jisung says.

“Wasn’t asking.”

“I mean, I don’t _think_ we’re dating,” Jisung frowns. “When do you know you’re dating and not just, you know, messing around?”

“No idea.” Hyunjin doesn’t _mess around_.

“Well, anyway, that’s that.” Jisung says, as Minho comes jogging up to them. “We’re _not_ a thing.”

“Okay.”

“It was less than half a cup,” Minho screws his face up, holding up a plastic container of cold rice. “Sorry-”

“This is perfect, thanks.” Hyunjin takes the container, leaving Minho and Jisung standing around, feeling stupid and confused.

“He’s the weird guy in our school.” Jisung explains.

“Oh, that’s me in our school.” Minho says.

“Oh, come on. Hyunjin’s _extra_ weird. You’re not that weird.”

“Aw, thanks, babe.”

 

Hyunjin gets another paper plate and a bottle of water and heads for the big rock near the back of the camp. It’s getting pretty late, and most of the boys are back in the cabin. His brother would probably be doing a headcount soon, and then promptly have a panic attack when Hyunjin’s not there.

Hyunjin breaks into a run. He fights through the shrubbery with his shoulders until he hears a few soft mewls.

He takes out his phone to light the way, then frowns when he finds a cardboard box near the base of the big rock. In front of the cardboard box is a small paper plate with some water, and a low plastic container with some rice and what looks like milk.

One of the kittens notices the light and peeks out of the box, meowing at Hyunjin. There’s some rice and milk caught in its whiskers.

Hyunjin smiles, tapping out some of the rice he’s got into the bowl. “Good night,” He says, petting the kittens, who had gone out to see what the commotion was.

_Someone had already fed them, though,_ Hyunjin thinks to himself as he runs back to the cabin. It makes him smile again.

“Where the hell have you been?” His brother asks, standing outside the cabin’s front door when Hyunjin arrives.

“A walk.” Hyunjin shrugs.

His brother picks a twig out of Hyunjin’s hair. “Go to bed. We start at 5 tomorrow.”

“Kay.”

“And wash your wound well.”

Hyunjin grins to himself when he’s sure his brother can’t see. Jinyoung-hyung’s really taken his role as Hyunjin’s single parent too seriously ever since their parents left.

Not that Hyunjin’s really complaining.

 

Getting up the next morning is a huge issue on both sides of the cabin. The air is crisp and cold, and their bodies ache a little bit from the drills, and a _lot_ from the fight the day before.

Jeongin wakes up to the sound of a fucking airhorn.

It’s not a real airhorn, just a sound from the Weevils’ captain’s phone.

“Wakey-wakey, guys,” Their captain says, walking up and down the rows of beds, turning on his heel right before he hits Bear territory.

Jeongin groans and rolls over, reaching for his own phone. _5:10 AM._

“Nooooo,” Jeongin moans, flipping over until he’s facedown on his pillow.

Someone slaps his ass so hard it makes his bones rattle.

“OW!” Jeongin flips over balling his hands into fists. “Who the fuck-!”

“Whoa, whoa, chill, kiddo.” Minho laughs holding his hands up to block anything Jeongin tries. Jeongin suddenly feels _very_ violated knowing that it was Minho. “Get up, you and I are on breakfast duty.”

“What?” Jeongin scowls. “Says who?”

“Says me.” Coach Park says, appearing out of nowhere with an eye mask over his forehead. The pattern on the eye mask matches his pajamas. It would’ve been funny if it were anyone else.

“Yes, Coach.” Jeongin tries to say as he stretches his arms up, but it comes out half as a yawn.

“You. Help them.” Coach Park says to the figure in the bed next to Jeongin’s. “Since you’ve got nothing else to do.”

Jeongin glances over at Woojin, who’s still lying down, but he’s wide awake, staring up at the slats of the bunk above his bed.

“Yes, Coach.”

 

“Let me do that.” Jeongin says, watching their captain murder a raw onion with his eyes half-shut. Well, he can’t be sure, because Woojin’s black eye is all swollen and greenish.

“I got it.” Woojin replies.

“Okay.” Jeongin backs of, checking on Minho’s attempts to get the rice cooker working on the extension cord he’s snaked all the way here from the cabin.

“Son of a bitch.” Minho says.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it got unplugged at the end.” Minho mutters, shaking the green extension cord. “Could you check?”

“Why me?”

“You’re younger and you run faster.”

Jeongin grumbles but he turns to go. When he gets back to the cabin, the Weevils are having a half-naked pillow fight while their captain and coach scream for them to stop. Jeongin wishes he could join, but he has a job to do.

He follows Minho’s green extension cord until he finds the end at the wall socket. One of the sockets is covered with duct tape with a message that reads, _DO NOT USE._ The other one has a Nintendo Switch plugged in.

Jeongin gets on his knees to observe the Switch in greater detail. His mom won’t let him get one, “because your 3DS still works”, and his dad won’t let him have one because his mom said he can’t. Jeongin pokes a button. It’s not nearly done charging.

“Oh, sorry, that’s mine.”

Jeongin looks up to find one of the Weevils scrambling over in nothing but boxers, clearly running away from the pillow fight.

“Sorry, I _really_ needed to finish this one level,” The Weevil explains, unplugging his charger.

Jeongin’s holding on the green plug of Minho’s extension cord, but he doesn’t stick it in. “Level of _what_?”

“ _Breath of the Wild_.” The Weevil says, grinning.

_Ugh, this guy has nice teeth AND a Switch AND_ Breath of the Wild _,_ Jeongin thinks, licking his braces. _He’s got everything._

“Plug yours in.” Jeongin says firmly, throwing the end of Minho’s extension cord aside. “Can I watch you play?”

“Oh, sure.” The Weevil shrugs. He plugs his Switch in and powers it up. Jeongin vibrates with excitement as he settles on the floor next to him, watching the game load.

 

Minho clicks the rice cooker again.

“What’s the matter?”

Minho looks up to find Jisung holding a smaller rice cooker under one arm, and the cord in his other hand. “No you can _not_ share my extension cord.”

“Come on,” Jisung whines. “Ours went missing.”

“Is that my fault?” Minho asks, dumping his rice cooker on the picnic table irritably.

Jisung picks up the green cord that Minho’s using, flipping it over. Under the socket, it reads, _Bang Chan._

Jisung looks up at Minho with his eyes narrows. “ _No, you can_ not _share my extension cord,_ ” He whines in an offensive impression of Minho’s voice as he ruthlessly unplugs Minho’s rice cooker.

“What?” Minho whines back, not actually that far from Jisung’s impression. “Someone took ours. I figured it was one of you, so I made it even.”

Jisung starts laughing.

“Stop laughing at me!”

“What kind of fuckass logic is that?”

“ _Sound_ fuckass logic!”

 

Hyunjin sneaks away from his brother as soon as the latter gets occupied asking Jisung why there’s no rice yet. He puts on a jacket – it’s a bit chilly this morning – and heads straight for the kittens, worried.

He stumbles on a wire as he enters the clearing. There’s a small electric heater on top of the big rock, connected to a long white extension cord that snakes off somewhere into the shrubbery. The kittens are huddled around the electric heater, and instantly start meowing when they see Hyunjin.

Hyunjin sits on the rock, glad for the warmth, but he switches the heater off. _It could catch fire if we just leave it on out here… Whoever put it here._

Hyunjin pets the kittens as they crawl into his lap, one of them creeping into his jacket. He picks up the electric heater. Written on it in big letters is the name: _Lee Minho._


	12. “SHAWTY HAD THEM APPLE BOTTOM JEANS!” – Seo Changbin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan watches the Bears get in a perfect grid formation to do some early morning exercises while their coach whistles and shouts at them to an inch of their lives. Chan’s too busy feeling bad for them to realize that Changbin’s clearing his throat loudly.
> 
> “SHAWTY HAD THEM APPLE BOTTOM JEANS!” Changbin yells at the top of his lungs. 
> 
> “JEANS!” Jisung’s voice carries from the back of their group. 
> 
> “BOOTS WITH THE FUR!” Changbin continues.
> 
> “WITH THE FUR!” Jisung screams, along with two or three other Weevils.

“Enough fun and games, time to get down to business,” Jinyoung says, arms crossed as he studies the gaggle of boys assembled in front of him. He doesn’t want his boys to be as soulless and drained as the other team, but they could at least take some tips on changing out of their fucking pajamas before starting training. “Are those bunnies, Felix?”

“Oh, uh,” Felix frowns down at his fluffy slippers, slightly damp from the dewy grass. “I think they’re cats, Coach.”

“ _Cats_ ,” Jinyoung echoes, drumming his fingertips on his arms. It had taken an hour and a half to get breakfast on the table, because _some_ bright spark had unplugged the cord for the rice cooker to play some video game for the better part of an hour. Chan hadn’t reported any names, but Jinyoung had his bet on a certain freshman wearing cat slippers.

“I can lead the stretching, Coach.” Chan offers.

Jinyoung scowls, pretending it’s because of glare from the rising sun. _Some people are too happy this fucking early in the morning._ “No, run a few laps around the field. Ten- Fifteen should do it.”

“Fifteen? Yes, Coach, _sir_!” Chan beams, before starting to jog towards the field. “Come on, guys!”

Jinyoung counts their bobbing heads as they pass. _Well that’s all of them._

He pulls his jacket around himself and heads into Mark’s cabin. “Do you have any coffee? I need some fucking coffee.”

 

Chan glances over his shoulder, frowning. He probably should’ve given everyone time to change into their rubber shoes before starting to jog, but no one’s complaining. Not even Felix, whose cat slippers are starting to become brunettes.

Changbin yawns. “Heeyyy Cap, can we sing some songs to pass the time?”

“We literally _just_ started.” Hyunjin says, reaching into his pocket to turn up the volume on the music already blaring into his earphones.

“Songs! Songs! Songs! Songs!”

“Um…” Chan watches the Bears begin to file onto the field in their matching tracksuits. “What kinds of songs?”

“Dunno, something everyone knows?” Changbin shrugs as they round a corner of the field.

“Like…” Chan furrows his brow. “The national anthem?”

“Oh, I don’t know that.” Someone from behind Chan admits.

“Me too.”

“I’m not even _from_ here, dude.”

“Yeah, not the national anthem.” Changbin says. “I was thinking more like…”

Chan watches the Bears get in a perfect grid formation to do some early morning exercises while their coach whistles and shouts at them to an inch of their lives. Chan’s too busy feeling bad for them to realize that Changbin’s clearing his throat loudly.

“SHAWTY HAD THEM APPLE BOTTOM JEANS!” Changbin yells at the top of his lungs.

“JEANS!” Jisung’s voice carries from the back of their group.

“BOOTS WITH THE FUR!” Changbin continues.

“WITH THE FUR!” Jisung screams, along with two or three other Weevils.

“THE WHOLE CLUB WAS LOOKIN AT HER!” Changbin bellows.

“EEAAAYYY!” Jisung yelps.

“SHE HIT THE FLOOR!”

“SHE HIT THE FLOOR!” The entire team screams back, and Chan winces. The Bears are starting to give them dirty looks.

“NEXT THING YOU KNOW!” Changbin carries on, unbothered.

“SHAWTY GOT LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW!”

Chan wants to dig a hole and bury himself alive.

 

“Are you done?” Chan asks, when they’ve gone around the entire song five times, and the field around four.

“Yeah, I think so.” Changbin looks thoughtful for a few steps. Then he clears his throat and starts, “SomeBODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME!”

Sure as clockwork, Jisung’s voice rings out from the back of their group. “I AIN’T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHEEEEED!”

“SHE WAS LOOKING KINDA DUMB WITH HER FIIINGER AND HER THUMB!” Felix yells from the back.

Even Hyunjin joins in, plucking his earphones out as he goes, “IN THE SHAPE OF AN L ON HER FOREHEAD!”

Chan sighs. _If you can’t beat them…_ “Well, the years start coming and they don’t stop coming/ Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running/ Didn’t make sense not to live for fun/ Your brain gets smart-”

“BUT YOUR HEAD GETS DUMB!” Changbin growls.

“So much to do so much to SEE!” Chan finds himself smiling, despite himself. “SO WHAT’S WRONG WITH TAKING THE BACK STREETS!”

“YOU’LL NEVER KNOW IF YOU DON’T GO!” He and Changbin shout together.

“GOOOo!” Jisung howls from the back.

“YOU’RE NEVER SHINE IF YOU DON’T GLOW!”

The rest of the team, now sure that Chan’s in on it, which must mean that it can’t be _that_ bad, join in screaming like they’re trying to spit their lungs out.

“HEY NOW! YOU’RE AN ALL STAR! GET YOUR GAME ON!”

 

Woojin finally finishes cleaning up everything from breakfast and putting it all away, and he’s about to go back to moping in the cabin when he hears noise from outside. _People shouting? Is something happening?_

He puts on a jacket and steps out into the early morning sun. His teammates – well, _ex-_ teammates, technically – are getting red-faced from Coach Park’s merciless morning drills.

They’re all glaring at the same direction, but it’s not their coach.

“HEY NOW! YOU’RE AN ALL STAR!”

Woojin can’t hide his grin when the Weevils pass, howling and screaming at the top of their lungs. They’re shouting so hard that they can hardly run or jog anymore, they’re just walking at a kind of brisk pace in a circle of pure noise that seems to be closing in around the disgruntled Bears.

Now that he’s watching them from the outside, the Weevils don’t seem like the losers.

 “ALL THAT GLITTERS IS GOOOLD!”

_What the hell are you thinking, Woojin? They’re the_ definition _of losers._

Woojin notices Minho looking at him with a curious expression, so he wipes his smile off his face, and heads back into the cabin.

“IT’S A COOL PLACE! AND THEY SAY IT GETS COLDER!”

Woojin’s back is turned to the door when it opens.

“Um, Captain?”

Woojin turns around to find one of the freshmen standing by the door, looking nervous. “Yeah?”

“Coach Park asked me to tell you to bring the equipment out.”

Woojin hesitates for a second, decides arguing isn’t worth it, then walks towards the folded-up equipment. “Could you give me a hand? Or call someone else to help with the cage-”

“C- Coach said I can’t help you.”

Woojin drops the bats he’d picked up. He doesn’t put it past their coach, but he’d be a crappy captain if he went around believing every fucking freshman on the team. “What were his exact words?”

The freshman gulps.

“Tell me what he said, Lee.”

“He s-said,” The freshman avoids Woojin’s eyes. “ _Tell that boy to make himself useful and get the things. Don’t help him even if he complains._ ”

_Sounds about right,_ Woojin thinks. He picks up the bats again, two giant duffel bags’ worth of them. He leans over to try and swipe the container of baseballs, but he can’t seem to pick it up. “Could you get that other bag of balls, Lee?”

The freshman doesn’t move, as if his feet are rooted to the ground. “But Coach said-”

“I know what he said, Lee, you _just_ told me.” Woojin says testily. “Just grab that bag, that’s all I’m asking you to-”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I can’t.”

Woojin glares at the kid. Normally, he would’ve put him on equipment or water duty for being a little shit, but Woojin’s not so sure he has that kind of power right now.

_This sucks._

“Please?” Woojin asks, as kindly as he can muster. “I’ll explain things to Coach. Just grab that for me, that’s all I’m asking.”

The freshman makes a motion to help him, but a shadow falls over him from behind.

“What’s taking you so long? Lee, get back to the field!” Coach Park barks. The poor freshman casts one apologetic look at Woojin, then dashes out of there like he’s being chased by zombies. The coach crosses his arms. “Hurry up.”

“I can’t bring them all, sir-”

“Then _take more trips_.” Coach Park scoffs. “Is that what you’ve been hanging around here for? Is that really _that_ hard to figure out? Use your brain! And I thought you were an honors student.”

Woojin grips the handles in his hands until his knuckles go white.

The Coach turns to go, seeing some movement in the field that he doesn’t like. “And when you’re done with that, you can start making lunch. Even you can’t have a hard time figuring _that_ out.”

The Coach is stopped on his way out, and Woojin can hear someone talking to him. He recognizes their voice immediately.

_No. Not right fucking now._

 

When Chan had hears the Bears’ coach raising his voice and sees that one Bear run off looking fucking terrified, he knows he should just turn around and mind his own business.

_But that’s not like me, is it?_

Chan hovers behind the shrubbery by the front of the cabin, listening. He doesn’t need to try that hard, because it doesn’t seem as though Coach Park is trying to keep anything he’s saying a secret.

“Use your brain!” The coach shouts, spit flecking from his mouth. “And I thought you were an honors student.”

Chan ducks behind the shrubbery when the coach cranes his neck to look out at the field again. The Bears are on a water break, but they don’t look it. They’re still staying in neat lines, mumbling quietly to each other when they want to say something. Chan’s never seen _his_ teammates acting that reserved, especially not with the coach out.

_Speaking of which_ … Chan resists the temptation to slap himself in the face when he hears Changbin’s voice carry from the field. He can’t make out what Changbin’s saying, but his _tone_ …

_Changbin’s picking a fight. Again._

_Goddammit._

Chan’s about to give up on his impromptu eavesdropping session when he hears Coach Park speak again. “And when you’re done with that, you can start making lunch. Even you can’t have a hard time figuring _that_ out.”

Chan frowns. _No one, not even Kim Woojin, deserves to be spoken to like that._

“Good morning, Coach Park, sir.” Chan says suddenly, surprising himself. From the look on Coach Park’s face, he’s twice as surprised.

“Hm.” Coach Park nods.

“Sir, we were wondering if your team would like to play ours later this afternoon.” Chan can hear Changbin yelling, and hopes Coach Park doesn’t. _What the hell is_ our _Coach Park doing?_

_Laughing to one side, probably._

“Can’t get enough of losing, can you?” The Bears’ coach jeers. “As much as we’d like to help you, my team is busy preparing for the championship.”

“That’s all right, sir, I’ll-” Chan shuts his eyes briefly when he hears Jisung’s voice carry from the field. “I’ll let my teammates know.”

“Hm.” Is all Coach Park says, trying to sidestep Chan to get back to the field.

“Oh, and Coach Park, sir?”

“What else?” Coach Park asks irritably.

“Oh, I just wanted to tell you how much I admire your methods, sir.” Chan says through a clenched smile. “They’re very… _strong.”_

“Get out of my way.” Coach Park nudges past Chan, almost pushing the latter into the shrubbery. Chan watches helplessly, steading himself while the other team’s coach stomps onto the field, demanding to know what the _hell_ is going on.

Chan looks back at the Bears’ captain, who’d been just standing there this whole time, carrying what looked like two duffel bags full of bats. “Do you need any help with-”

“No.” The other captain replies sternly on his way out. He pauses at the doorway, his frown lightening up a fraction. “I mean, no, thanks.”

Chan nods and gets their equipment, which is just one bag. He notices the rest of the Bears’ things, then looks out at the Bears’ captain trudging along the path outside with as much as his arms can carry.

Chan shifts his team’s equipment bag to one shoulder and picks up the rest of the Bears’ without a moment’s hesitation.


	13. It’s time to stop caring so much, Chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good work, everyone,” Jinyoung says, leading the boys back to the cabin area to get started making lunch. “Well, we’ve got a long way to go, but we’re getting there, at least. Slowly. But surely. But _very_ slowly.”
> 
> “You’re getting real good at this pep talk thing, Coach.” Jisung says, both thumbs up.
> 
> “Don’t patronize me.” Jinyoung grumbles.

“You did _what_?” Chan asks, dropping the little equipment they have on the ground in surprise.

“I got them to agree to a game.” Changbin says, with a smug, lopsided grin on his face. “Even Coach Rock-face.”

“He’s broken them.” Hyunjin says proudly.

“I never doubted you, man.” Felix says, going in for an extra long bro-hug with Changbin while their captain looks helplessly in the direction of their coach.

“Coach?”

Jinyoung’s squinting at the world in general like he can’t see a thing in the intense sunlight, even under the shade of his cap. “It’s good practice, falling on your ass a lot.”

Chan makes a face. _Well, sure, if you’re learning to bike._ “I guess so.”

“We’re gonna beat them this time.” Changbin says firmly.

“We’ll wipe the ground with them.” Jisung says.

“Actually, with their captain gone, if we play everything just right…” Jinyoung says, looking over at the Bears warming up for a game. “We might actually score more than _one_ point.”

Chan can’t understand why the Bears’ coach suddenly so supportive about this friendly match. Just a few minutes ago, he’d been ready to plow Chan down, but now he’s actually… _smiling_?

Then Chan sees the Bears’ captain lugging the last of their equipment to the field.

_“I can hear you, you know.”_

_Chan had stopped dead in his tracks._

_“Just put everything down on the table.” The Bears’ captain had given Chan a sharp, but no unfriendly look over his shoulder. “I can bring it to the field myself.”_

_“I was just trying to help-”_

_“Yeah, I got that much.” The other captain had said, waiting until Chan lowered all of their things on the picnic table. Then, with a small smile, he’d added, “Thanks, Chan.”_

_Chan had considered insisting he carry the things all the way to the field, but he could see how hard the other captain was already trying to be_ civil _. “No problem.”_

He can’t make out the words, but Coach Park is saying something to the other captain now, and it doesn’t look nice.

Chan doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

_It’s time to stop caring so much, Chan._ A voice in his head says. It’s probably the voice of reason.

But he knows he couldn’t do that.

 

It takes another ten minutes for the game to start, because neither Coach Park can agree on who would make the most impartial umpire, and neither is the type to back down.

“What about the camp coordinator guy?” One of the Bears, the one who was always hanging around their captain, had suggested.

“Oh.” Both Coach Parks had looked embarrassed at not having thought of it earlier.

The camp coordinator looks overjoyed to have something to do – Chan honestly has no idea what he’s been doing in his cabin the whole day. _Probably clerical stuff, if he’s_ this _excited to referee a game._

“First batter up!” The coordinator says, though it’s entirely unnecessary.

Felix steps up to the plate. He only agreed to go first because their coach had threatened to limit him to half a cup of rice at lunch if he didn’t.

“Go Felix!” Chan cheers, hands cupped around his mouth.

Felix smiles at him then, before turning back to the Bears’ pitcher.

_It’s downright cold,_ Chan thinks, standing by the bench that’s too short for their entire team. _To replace Woojin with his friend._

The new pitcher is good, technically, because every last one of his pitches lands right in the box. But he’s obviously new to this, because they all follow the exact same path. Felix picks this up after two strikes, and manages to hit the ball once. Chan’s heart bursts with pride, even if the Bears’ second baseman catches the ball and Felix is out.

Chan tries to get into the game like he usually does, but he forgets to cheer Changbin on.

“Good job, Changbin!” Chan calls out when he notices Changbin had managed to scramble safely to first base. But Jisung’s already at bat at that point, and Chan adds, “Go Jisung!”

The Bears all seem uneasy playing a game without their captain, and it’s infectious. Even though this match isn’t official and doesn’t matter in the long run, the Bears all look like they just want it over.

Chan does too, weirdly enough.

 

It’s the last inning, and it’s Chan’s turn to bat again.

“Come on, Captain, we’re only four points down and Jaehyun’s on third,” Jinyoung reminds him eagerly, though they both know it’s unnecessary – Three of the four points had been Chan’s. “You can do this.”

Chan looks at the coach, who seems to be drowning in his own hope. As much as he doesn’t want to let Coach Park down, the temptation to just flub everything so the game could be over sooner is growing with each passing second. It just doesn’t feel _right_.

“Clear your head,” Jinyoung says, patting Chan on the shoulder as the latter steps up to the plate. “Don’t think about anything or anyone.”

Chan glances back, confused. _Can the man read minds too, now? What_ can’t _he do?_

Chan knows everyone – everyone on his side of the field, at least – is banking on him to save this awkward, pointless match. So he exhales slowly, clearing his mind like he’s just pushed a flush lever. He looks the new pitcher right in the eye as the latter lets a ball loose, and swings the bat.

It connects with the ball with a powerful twang, and flies up into the air.

His teammates cheer, but he knows better. He frowns and waves Jaehyun back to the third base when the junior starts running towards the home plate. “Foul ball,” Chan mouths. “Foul.”

“Foul!”

When everything’s settled again, he steps up to the plate. _You swung too late._

He twitches his shoulders and readies himself for another pitch.

_This guy’s predictable, at least. Not like their captain._

Chan misses the ball. It smacks into the catcher’s mitt with a slap, but the Bears’ catcher himself is silent, for a change.

“Strike!” The coordinator calls out gleefully.

_Too late, Chan, swing a little earlier. Just a little bit._

Chan exhales slowly. The pitcher frowns, and Chan can see that he’s considering changing things up, then the younger boy’s expression clears. _Yeah, he figured it’s not worth the risk. It hardly ever is._

Chan watches the ball leave the pitcher’s hand, then swings.

The twang of the ball hitting the bat seems to come a second later, like thunder. The ball itself flies up into the air and seems to just keep going, until it’s well over the camp’s property fence.

Chan walks all the way around to home plate. He’s really not feeling it today, not right now. Neither are the Bears, because there doesn’t seem to be any sense of urgency about the two points they’d just lost from the lead.

The Bears’ coach is shouting something at his team, but Chan doesn’t hear it above the adoring wails of his teammates. Changbin squeezes Chan so tightly Chan feels like ribs starting to crack, and Felix is screaming right into his ear. Even Hyunjin gives Chan’s shoulder an affectionate pat.

“Stop overreacting,” Their coach says finally, wiping the proud smile off his face self-consciously. “You guys are embarrassing.”

Chan looks over at the other team, who aren’t reacting at all. He hates this.

“Good job, Chan.” Jinyoung gives Chan’s other shoulder an affectionate pat. Chan thinks maybe that’s how they show affection in the family, which is a little sad, but he appreciates it anyway.

“Thanks, Coach.”

Chan stands by the bench again, declining every offer to have a seat. He’s just hit a home run, but that’s not why he’s feeling antsy.

“Go Sunwoo!” Chan shouts for his teammate, kind of as an afterthought.

The coordinator goes back to hovering around the game like a good umpire. The Bears’ coach is throwing his arms around in irritation – Oh, no he’s trying to signal the pitcher, who doesn’t seem to be paying attention. None of the Bears seems to be paying attention to their coach right now. The Weevils’ coach isn’t doing much better, trying to keep the rest of Chan’s teammates in the general area of the bench, because they’re still jumping around from that last home run.

_Everyone’s here._ Chan realizes. _And we haven’t seen Woojin in_ hours _._

 

“Good work, everyone,” Jinyoung says, leading the boys back to the cabin area to get started making lunch. “Well, we’ve got a long way to go, but we’re getting there, at least. Slowly. But surely. But _very_ slowly.”

“You’re getting real good at this pep talk thing, Coach.” Jisung says, both thumbs up.

“Don’t patronize me.” Jinyoung grumbles.

Chan’s ears perk up when he hears panicked voices from the Bears’ tables.

“What do you _mean_ it was just here?”

“I mean I just found this here,” One of the Bears says, pointing at the plastic containers full of food.

“Where’s Captain?”

“Dunno.”

“He’s not in the house?”

“No.”

“You checked the bathroom?”

“I just came from there, there’s no one in there.”

“Where else could he be?”

Chan stands up, but someone grabs him by the arm. It’s his coach, also clearly listening to the Bears’ not-very-hushed conversation.

“Could you check if I left the mayo in Mark’s cabin?” Jinyoung doesn’t look at Chan, but the message is clear.

“Yes, Coach.” Chan starts for the cabin immediately.

 

“You needed something?” The coordinator asks, shuffling through his keyring for the one to his cabin. Chan’s heart sinks just a little bit.

“I was just gonna check if… our mayo is in there.”

“Oh, sure.” The coordinator unlocks the door, frowning when Chan dashes past him and into the cabin.

“Woojin?” Chan calls out. The cabin’s interior is just one room that’s so sparsely decorated that it takes one look to know it’s completely empty. Chan turns to find the coordinator looking at him strangely. “Thanks.”

“But you didn’t even look-”  

“Yeah, thanks anyway,” Chan assures him as he runs back to their coach. Jinyoung is handing out ham and egg sandwiches to all the Weevils, but he stops when he sees Chan.

“Did you find him?” He asks.

“No.”

The coach looks worried, which makes Chan even more worried. He’s too used to Coach Park trying to keep that veneer of not caring that when the coach does look like he genuinely cares, it scares Chan.

One of the Bears stops at their table.

“Sorry to bother you while you’re eating lunch,” He says in a timid but urgent tone. “But have you seen our captain?”

Chan’s teammates stop chewing to frown at each other before shaking their heads.

“No, sorry.”

“Sorry, I haven’t.”

“He’s not in the cabin?”

“No.” The Bear says, chewing on his lip. “Thanks anyway.”

Chan feels a hand on his shoulder push him to sit down on the picnic bench. Their coach thrusts a sandwich into his hands.

“No thanks, I’m not hun-”

“You’re in charge.” Jinyoung says.

“Where are you going? I’ll go with you-”

“Watch the others.” Jinyoung says, forcefully enough this time that Chan knows it’s not up for argument. He places his sandwich on the table, but he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Felix asks.

“I don’t know.”

Felix’s brows furrow in a sympathetic frown. Then he asks, “Are you gonna eat that?”

 

Mark manages to catches Jinyoung before the latter does anything stupid, like try to kill Coach Park and not finish the job.

“Coach Park – Yeah, both of you. In my cabin. Now.”

He leads the two coaches past all the boys, who have now melded into one big, confused, worried group that’s half lost their appetite and half stress-eating.

He closes the door behind him, and doesn’t offer either coach a seat. There’s no time for that.

“This is all your fault.” Jinyoung says, jabbing a finger in the elder Coach Park’s direction. “If you hadn’t been so fucking cruel to that kid-”

“ _Cruel_? If he can’t handle me, there’s no way he’d survive collegiate baseball anyway.” The elder coach says. “Like you.”

“ _You’re_ the reason I never even got that far-”

“Jinyoung, please. We have a missing kid. We have to find him.” Mark grabs Jinyoung by the arm, and he’s a little glad that Jinyoung steps back on his own, because Mark’s not sure he would’ve been able to pull Jinyoung away otherwise. Mark waits for his former teammate to settle down a bit before he says, “I found the front gate unlocked, so he probably went out that way. The road goes two ways, so I’m going to need both of you to take one way each-”

“This is assuming he’s smart enough to stick to the road.” The elder Coach Park says.

“Anyone who refuses to put up with your bullshit is smart.”

“ _Jinyoung_.” Mark warns him.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, I’ll stay here with the kids, I’ll hole them up in the peach cabin while you two take the buses-”

“I’m afraid we need that gas to get home.” The elder Coach Park interrupts. “The next gas station is hours away, and we can’t very well strand the entire team here for _one_ boy.”

Mark and Jinyoung take a moment to just _comprehend_ what their former coach is saying.

“Could you stop being a monster for just five fucking seconds and listen to me?” Mark says through grated teeth. “If you can’t care about the kid because he’s a kid, at least care about his family. He’s one of the Stadium Kims. They can sue us within an inch of our lives if anything happens to their kid.”

Coach Park’s eyes widen.

“You picked the wrong kid to fuck up this time.” Jinyoung says bitterly.


	14. Finding Woojin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “His coach gave him permission!” The coordinator snaps at them, starting to close the door. “Your coach won’t give you _shit_.”

“I’m going with you.” Chan says, trying to push past the coordinator.

“Please get inside.” The coordinator says, struggling to close the door to the cabin behind them both.

“Coach! Please!” Chan calls out. “Let me go with you! _Please_!”

“Jinyoung.” The coordinator begs for help.

Chan keeps pushing, because Coach Park has stopped walking. “Coach Park!”

Coach Park spins around and huffs back to the cabin. “Chan, you have to watch the others while I’m not-”

“Changbin will do it.”

Coach Park gives him a look that says, _Really._

“Then Hyunjin.” Chan hardens his gaze. “You trust your own brother, don’t you?”

Coach Park seems to think about it, then realize he doesn’t have the luxury of time to _think_ about things. “Fine. But just you.”

“Thank you, Coach.” Chan bows deeply. He turns and finds Hyunjin near the door, reliably confused at the mention of his name. “You’re in charge, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin nods. “Okay.”

The coordinator lets Chan out, and when he does, half a dozen of the Bears suddenly protest, asking to be let out, too.

“His coach gave him permission!” The coordinator snaps at them, starting to close the door. “Your coach won’t give you _shit_.”

 

“Thanks for letting me come along.” Chan says, one hand gripping his seatbelt and the other gripping the handle on the door. The minibus is hurtling along the road faster than any speed limit would ever allow, but it’s much slower than Coach Park usually goes at.

“Keep your eyes open, I might miss him.” Coach Park says.

Chan’s grip on the door tightens. “Yes, Coach.”

It’s likely the relative silence of the minibus and the sheer emptiness of the road doing a number on him, but Chan’s suddenly filled with a deep sense of regret.

“I shouldn’t have punched him.” Chan says quietly, feeling a fraction better after saying it out loud.

“No,” His coach agrees. “You probably shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t realize what he was- That his coach would be like _that_.” Chan sinks in his seat. “I mean, we knew he was a scary guy, but…”

“He’s not scary.” Jinyoung says. “He’s evil.”

Chan looks over at his coach for a second, and in that second, he doesn’t seem like an adult. He seems scared, resentful, and very, very _teenage_. There’s no other word for it.

“I’m sure Woojin’s fine.” Chan says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels, for his coach’s sake. “He’s a tough guy, Coach, I think that’s why Coach Park picks on him.”

Jinyoung smiles at him for a moment before turning back to the road. “We usually are.”

 

“Jeongin.”

Jeongin’s curled up against the wall, head tucked into his knees. He can’t imagine why Woojin would just disappear, and where he would go, and why he wouldn’t tell Jeongin about it at least. And it scares him.

“Jeongin.” Minho’s poking him on the top of the head now. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” Jeongin tries to sound tough, but his voice gives him away.

“Someone wants to talk to you.” Minho says.

“I don’t want to talk to them.” Jeongin says, burying his face deeper into his knees.

“It’s okay if he’s really not-”

“Give me that.” Minho says. Jeongin only vaguely recognizes the other voice. It must be one of the guys from W------- High.

Something cold presses against Jeongin’s arm.

Jeongin, too curious to be properly _broody_ , looks up. The cold thing against his arm is a Switch, and the Switch’s owner is looking down at him with a sympathetic half-smile.

“There’s this bonus level I found,” He says. “I was wondering if you wanted to play it.”

“Yes please,” Jeongin scrubs his tears off on the hem of his shirt. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bro.”

 

Hyunjin’s been watching the sky for the past half hour. It had been really sunny – cloudless, really – when they were playing earlier, but clouds had rolled in from somewhere shortly after they were all locked into the cabin with the coordinator.

And now they were huge, dark, and heavy-looking.

_The kittens._ Hyunjin looks at the coordinator, who’s talking to Jisung about the canteen at W------ High not changing their menu in eons. _That’s why he looks so familiar. He was one of hyung’s classmates, probably._

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

 

“How will we know if Coach – I mean, the _other_ Coach Park’s found him?” Chan asks, when he starts feeling that they’ve been driving for far too long and found nothing.

“Mark will call.”

Chan looks down at the coach’s phone, sitting darkened in a cupholder, as it has since they’ve started looking.

“Could he really have gotten _this_ far-” Chan’s interrupted by a faint plinking sound. It’s followed by another two, then a dozen, until it’s become clear that rain is battering the car’s windshield.

He looks nervously at Coach Park – _his_ Coach Park, he figures he ought to call him – but the coach only flicks the windshield wipers and headlights on.

“Keep looking.”

 

Hyunjin taps the coordinator on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, hey there, Little Jinyoung,” The coordinator looks all the way up Hyunjin. “Well, not _so_ little. What’s up?”

“I need to go outside.” He says. Directness seems to work for Jisung, it might work for him.

“No can do, dude, I have to keep you all in here until your coaches get back.” The coordinator looks out the window. “Besides, it’s raining.”

“Yes, that’s _why_ I need to-” Hyunjin realizes how vague he’s being. “I left something outside.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“It’s my phone.” Hyunjin says about the phone currently sitting calmly in his back pocket. “And it’s not waterproof.”

“Well shit.” The coordinator runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t let you out unless I go with you, but I also can’t very well leave all these guys alone, and both your captains are gone…”

“I can go alone.”

“Absolutely not.”

Hyunjin looks at Jisung. As much as he likes Jisung, he doesn’t want to let Jisung in on the secret. He doesn’t know why the kittens are such a huge secret for him, but he’s just going to keep it that way.

“Please, sir, I saved up for half a year for that phone.” Hyunjin lies. He’d only saved up for a few months, because his brother had caved and paid for half the price.

“Sorry, but your safety is more important than anything else.”

Lightning flashes through the window, followed by thunder. Some of the boys jump. Hyunjin is scared, but not like that.

 

Chan is exhausted when they pull up to the only gas station on the highway for miles. They’re an hour away from the camp at this point, way too far for anyone to walk, and Chan’s last hope is that the other Coach Park had found Woojin and brought him back to camp without letting them know.

“I’m going to get gas.” Chan’s Coach Park says. He sounds just as tired as Chan feels.

“I’ll ask around if they’ve seen Woojin.” Chan unclips his seatbelt and steps out, glad to be out of that minibus and doing _something_.

He walks into the gas station’s convenience store. “Excuse me,” he says to the middle-aged woman running the store. “Have you seen another boy pass through here? He’s around my age, he was wearing a dark blue shirt, it had a big 01 on it…”

“I’m sorry, son, but no.”

Chan thanks her anyway and buys two bottles of water.

He’s walking back to the minibus when he notices another small bus getting gas. It seems to be a public bus that’s mostly empty save for two old women, and one man fast asleep, leaning against the window.

_No, that’s not a man._

_I mean, it’s not a grown-up_ man _kind of man._

Chan runs across the lot and gets on his tiptoes, banging his hands against the window. The two elderly women look startled and start talking about Chan like he’s a misbehaving toddler, but he doesn’t care.

 

 

Woojin wakes up with a start, then wipes his mouth off on his sleeve, frowning at the figure on the street below, slapping their window like a weirdo.

“Chan?” He asks, though he realizes the other captain can’t hear him. He’s about to gather his things and go to him, until he sees the minibus loading up on gas in front of the bus he’s on.

_I’m not going back there._ Woojin stays firmly planted on his seat and pretends not to notice Chan’s incessant banging. _It’d be too embarrassing._

_All of this is humiliating enough as it is._

The banging stops abruptly, and Woojin peers out the window to find Chan gone. _Maybe he’s given up._

“Woojin!”

The bus driver only looks up in mild interest when a sweaty, dusty teenage boy boards the bus in one impressive jump.

“Woojin!” Chan calls again, now stomping down the aisle of the bus. The two other passengers scoot away from the aisle, looking so shocked that in any other circumstances, Woojin would have laughed.

Chan stops at the aisle next to Woojin’s seat. “Come on, we’ll take you home.”

Woojin stares dead ahead at the back of the seat in front of him. In any other circumstances, his heart would’ve fluttered at the other captain’s choice of words.

“I mean, back to the camp.” Chan scratches the back of his head self-consciously. “We’re here to bring you back to the camp.”

“I’m not going.” Woojin says. “So you can stop wasting your time.”

“But-” Chan looks ready to argue, and Woojin honestly wishes he would, though he’s not sure why. Instead the other captain leans on the seat in front of Woojin’s and asks, “Why not?”

Woojin should’ve expected that. _This is the Weevils’ captain we’re talking about here._

“I can’t.” Woojin says. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Chan opens his mouth to say something, but someone speaks from behind him.

“Of course _he_ wouldn’t. But I do.”

Chan steps aside, frowning at his coach as the latter comes up the aisle of the bus.

“Get your stuff and get into our car so this poor bus can get back on its route.” The Weevils’ coach says.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Woojin says firmly, though he feels he just sounds like a brat. He always feels like he sounds like a brat, but it’s _extra_ bad today.

“Yeah, I’m not _your_ coach, blah blah blah,” The Weevils’ coach says. “Aren’t you glad I’m not?”

_Not really_ , is Woojin’s first thought. _Anyone is better than my coach._

“If your coach had found you here, there wouldn’t have been any question about it. You’d have stayed.”

Woojin looks up at the Weevils’ coach. _If he only knew…_

“I’m staying here.” Woojin says. “So thanks for your concern, but you can leave.”

The bus driver honks the horn impatiently. The two elderly women click their tongues disapprovingly. The rain keeps battering the top of the bus with urgent metallic plinking noises.

Chan looks at his coach, who looks back at him.

Woojin knows their type. They’re going to keep asking and asking him to come with them. They’re not going to quit, but they’re not going to do anything drastic either.

Woojin opens his mouth to tell them to please just leave him alone, but then the coach suddenly leans over and grabs Woojin’s backpack.

“Hey!” Woojin frowns as the coach starts running out of the bus. His money’s in there.

“Coach!” Chan starts running after him.

Woojin sighs, having no other choice than to follow.


	15. “I love cats” – Kim Seungmin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I, um, I know we’re not really friends,” Chan starts. “At all.” He adds, for good measure.
> 
> The other captain doesn’t say anything.
> 
> “So it’s kinda weird for me to be saying this,” Chan chews on the inside of his cheek a little. “But I…”
> 
> The other captain leans away cautiously.

“Where’s my backpack?” The Bears’ captain demands, refusing to get in the minibus.

“I’ll give it back to you when we get back to the camp.” Chan’s Coach Park says, starting the engine.

Chan has to hand it to his coach. That was pretty smart, if a little low.

_We only got to this camp in the first place_ because _our coach is pretty smart, if a little low._

The other captain sets his jaw like someone who isn’t used to being scammed.

“Come on,” Chan says gently. “The storm’s getting worse.”

_And the last bus stop I saw is over an hour’s walk away,_ Chan doesn’t add. But Woojin seems to realize that, because he turns away with a huff and climbs the minibus.

Chan climbs up after him, closing the door. Then he looks at his coach, then the empty passenger seat, then at the top of Woojin’s head bobbing as he settles down at the very back of the minibus.

“Coach, do you mind if I…” Chan trails off.

The coach glances into the rearview mirror at the sulky tuft of hair in the last row. “Sure, just don’t make a mess.”

Chan frowns, but he doesn’t bother to ask Coach Park what he means by that.

 

“Hi.”

“Hey.” Woojin turns to the window. He doesn’t have to patience to deal with this guy, not now.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Chan makes an awkward hand gesture at the empty seat next to Woojin.

_Of all the empty seats in this entire fucking bus…_ Woojin puts his leg up on the seat. “No.”

“Oh.” Chan hesitates in the middle of the aisle as the minibus starts off down the street, then takes a step forward, a step back, and eventually sits across the aisle from Woojin.

Woojin rolls his eyes and turns his entire body to the window.

_What are you planning to do when you get your backpack back?_

_Turn around and go right back out the gate._

_There’s no way I’m going back to-_

“Hey, Woojin?”

_Just pretend you can’t hear him._

“Woojin?”

_Why does his voice have to be so_ soft _?_ Woojin scowls as he turns around. “What?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for-”

“Apology accepted.” Woojin says coarsely, turning back to the window. He goes back to planning, watching the trees whip past the window in an alarmingly vague blur. _The Weevils’ coach drives like a madman._

The silence – if you can call the constant hammering of rain on the metal roof truly “silence” – lasts for less than a minute.

“Woojin?”

“What?”

“Does it still hurt?”

Woojin actually turns around then to make a face at the other captain. “ _What_?”

Chan points in the general direction of Woojin’s face. “Does it still hurt?”

Woojin scowls. _Of course it hurts. Of course I’m having trouble opening one eye because it’s still swollen like a fucking balloon of pure pain and_ of course _I can’t even talk or eat properly because of this huge cut on my lip that just doesn’t want to close. Of course I can’t believe my Coach would really do all this to me on my senior year, and of course I feel fucking terrible about having to give up on the dreams I’ve had since I was in kindergarten…_

In short, he says, “No.”

“That’s good.” Chan replies.

Woojin turns to the window again, but he can’t get back to planning his escape, because he knows Chan will bother him within the next minute or so.

“Woo-”

“What is it?”

Chan jumps when Woojin interrupts him, like he wasn’t expecting Woojin to answer him at all.

Woojin almost smiles. “What? What is it?”

“I just wanted you to know that, uh,” Chan runs his hand through his hair a couple times. “If you need someone to talk to-”

“That I should talk to _you_?” Woojin doesn’t mean to be cruel, but he lifts an eyebrow like, _Really?_

“Oh, no, not me.” Chan wags his head like a dog shaking off water. “No, I meant you could talk to our Coach. He just seems kinda cold at first but he’s really a nice guy.”

Woojin’s tempted to say, _Why the_ hell _would_ your _coach give a single fuck about_ me _?_ But Chan seems so earnest that Woojin just doesn’t have the heart to burst his bubble.

“Thanks.” Woojin says, turning to the window. He sits in wait, his ears perked against the rumbling of the storm for the next time Chan calls his name.

But he doesn’t.

After some time, Woojin even turns to see what Chan’s doing, but the latter isn’t doing anything. He’s just sitting there, drumming his fingers silently on his thighs and looking out the window every now and then. Then he looks across the aisle and notices Woojin looking at him.

Chan lifts his eyebrows.

Woojin looks away.

_Stop minding him, Woojin, you still don’t have a plan._

Woojin looks back again to find Chan watching him curiously.

_No, Woojin, that’s a terrible plan._

Chan tilts his head to the side.

_Fuck it._

“Hey Chan?” Woojin whispers, casting a cautious look in the direction of the Weevils’ coach, who seemed too busy trying to launch the minibus into orbit. Besides, with the rain banging on the roof and the entire bus between then, he probably wouldn’t hear Woojin even if he were shouting.

“Yeah?”

Woojin makes a motion for the latter to lean in. “I need your help.”

“Sure.” Chan says immediately. “What do you need?”

_This guy… seriously… was born yesterday,_ Woojin thinks with a deep sigh. Then he looks into Chan’s earnest eyes and, hoping the other captain is as trustworthy as he is trusting, says, “I need you to help me get out once we get to camp.”

“Get… out?”

“Yeah.” Woojin says. “I can’t go back there.”

Chan takes too long to think, and Woojin’s afraid he’s going to rat him out to the coach.

“Where will you go?” Chan asks.

“Home.”

“You know the way?”

“I can figure it out.” Woojin says firmly.

Chan’s quiet again.

“I _can_.” Woojin says, frowning.

“It’s just one more day.” Chan says. “Tonight and half of tomorrow, then we go home. Can’t you stay just until then?”

Woojin doesn’t know how to say that staying is _not_ an option without sounding like a… well, a _brat_.

“No.” He says.

“You can stay with us.” Chan says. “You don’t even have to talk to _him_.”

“No, Chan, you don’t get it, I _can’t_ -”

“We’ll even take you home tomorrow, just stay-”

“No.” Woojin says, and he’s a little bit glad that Chan picks up on his _This is the end of the argument_ tone.

But a small part of him wishes the other captain would press on anyway.

 

Chan loves watching the countryside whip past his window. When he was younger, his parents would take them on long trips to his grandma’s house three hours away, and Chan liked to imagine a monkey ninja swinging and jumping from tree to tree and dashing over the rice paddies. It’s a really kiddie thing, he knows, but he still likes doing it on the off chance that his parents aren’t too busy for a trip to Grandma’s.

The monkey ninja’s not doing well today. He keeps stumbling on _everything_ , or worse yet, vanishing completely.

Chan knows that Woojin’s pissed at him – Chan can hardly blame him, he _had_ been pretty obnoxious. But he can’t stop worrying about him, he doesn’t know why.

_You know why, Chan, you never know when to_ not _butt your head in other people’s business._

Chan can’t help it. _I guess I was just born pesky._

He turns to look across the aisle again. The bus has gotten dark – he doesn’t know how late it is, or if it’s just because of the rain, but he can hardly read the other captain’s expression.

“Woojin?”

Woojin had been looking out his own window, but he turns to Chan now, which Chan takes to be a good sign. “Yes?”

“I, um, I know we’re not really friends,” Chan starts. “At all.” He adds, for good measure.

The other captain doesn’t say anything.

“So it’s kinda weird for me to be saying this,” Chan chews on the inside of his cheek a little. “But I…”

The other captain leans away cautiously.

“I’ve got your back, okay?” Chan says slowly. “I know you don’t wanna go back in there, and I get that, but you have to eventually, and when you do, I’ll be right behind you.” He feels his face burn up, and suddenly regrets everything. “I know it’s really random and out of the blue, we don’t even _know_ each other, really-”

“Thanks,” Woojin says softly. Then he smiles. 

Even Chan’s ears are on fire now. _What am I supposed to do,_ not _smile back???_

 

Jeongin looks up when he hears people making noise by the door.

“Do you want to pause it?” Felix – he’s the guy who owns the Switch, bless him – asks.

“No, it’s okay, you can play,” Jeongin gets up and brushes the dust off his ass. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, dude.”

Jeongin jumps over the bags and boys strewn across the floor to get to the front of the cabin. He’s excited when he sees Coach Park in the doorway – this is probably the first and only time he’s ever going to be excited to see Coach Park. He’s like Snape, only less fabulous, as far as Jeongin knows.

And Jeongin desperately hopes Coach Park doesn’t have the hots for his mom. _Ew._

“Coach Park!”

The coach had been arguing with the camp coordinator, but Jeongin, being his dumb self, hadn’t noticed that straightaway.

Coach Park gives him a look that could probably wither plants.

Jeongin tries to shrink away in embarrassment, still listening in while the adults carry on arguing like he isn’t there.

“You mean you _haven’t_ found him?” The coordinator’s voice cracks.

Jeongin looks to his coach, whose expression looks set in stone.

“No.”

“Then why did you-”

“I couldn’t very well leave the rest of the boys for more than two hours just because-”

The coordinator runs a hand irritably through his hair. “You could’ve just called me if you _really_ wanted to know how they were doing!”

“How could I call if I was driving?”

Jeongin had heard enough. Woojin was still out there, somewhere, and Coach Park couldn’t be bothered to even _care_. Jeongin’s eyes start to sting as he trudges back to Felix, playing by the socket.

“What’s up?” Felix asks.

“They haven’t found him yet.”

“Oh,” Felix frowns. “That sucks.”

“Can I-” Jeongin notices a dark shape dart past the window. _It’s raining too hard to see anything well, dumbo, don’t be such a scaredy cat._

“What is it?” Felix asks, eyes like saucers as he follows Jeongin’s line of sigh to the window. “ _What is it_?”

“I thought I saw something.” Jeongin tries to shrug casually.

“What _kind_ of something?” Felix squeaks, ducking behind a pillow. He gets another pillow from someone else’s bed and throws it at Jeongin. “WHAT KIND OF SOMETHING?”

“Nothing!” Jeongin throws the pillow onto some other bed. “It was nothing! Probably just a crow or something.”

Felix seems to deflate, slumping down onto the floor. “Don’t scare me like that! Not cool!”

_Damn it,_ Hyunjin curses himself. One of the stupid Bear kids had seen him. He pulls his raincoat closer around himself and starts running away from the cabin. He’d thought to bring a flashlight, too, but Changbin had been sitting beside their emergency kit, and Changbin would’ve asked questions if Hyunjin had just randomly taken a flashlight.

So, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning and drenched in cold rain, Hyunjin feels his way into the forest at the back of the camp.

He sees little chinks of light between the dense shrubbery around where the kittens were.

_Did you have a plan for if you ran into someone else?_

Hyunjin remembers the electric heater. He hadn’t seen the extension cord on his way here, but then again, he hadn’t seen much of anything, really.

_If it’s just one of the Bears, and he’s been feeding the kittens… he can’t be that bad, right?_

Hyunjin starts parting the bushes gently, trying not to rustle them up so much.

“Hello?” A voice Hyunjin doesn’t recognize calls out from the clearing. “Who’s there?”

Hyunjin steps into the clearing. “Hi.”

There’s a boy sitting in the clearing – probably no older than Hyunjin, but he just _seems_ more like the kind of guy you call a “boy” – under an umbrella, cradling three sleeping kittens in his lap. He’s got a little flashlight that doesn’t seem bothered by the rain, and from the yellowish light Hyunjin can see a growling cartoon bear on his jersey.

“You’re your coach’s brother, right?” The boy asks, stroking the head of one of the kittens.

“Yeah. Hyunjin.” Hyunjin says as he sits on the damp rock next to the boy. He doesn’t usually give his name up easily, but the guy’s braving this thunderstorm to keep a few kittens dry. _He can’t be bad at all._

“I’m Seungmin.” The boy says, extending a hand.

Hyunjin slowly brings his hand closer, not sure what to do, so he ends up giving Seungmin a very weak, damp low-five.

Seungmin grimaces but shrugs it off. “Are they yours?” He asks, stroking the sleeping kittens.

“No. They’re not yours?”

“Nope.” Seungmin bends over to kiss one on the top of its scruffy head.

_I like the little guys, but this guy takes this a little too far._ Hyunjin thinks, visibly flinching.

Seungmin laughs. “I love cats.”

“I see that.”

One of the kittens stirs in its sleep, probably hearing them talk, and opens its big green eyes up at Hyunjin.

Seungmin tries to stroke it back to sleep, but it keeps looking at Hyunjin. Seungmin follows suit. “You wanna hold Stormy?”

Hyunjin frowns. “Stormy?”

“Oh, I named them,” Seungmin says, looking a little embarrassed. “This gray one’s Stormy, because she’s gray, and this yellow one’s Sunny, because she’s yellow.”

“What about the brownish one?” Hyunjin asks.

“Oh.” Seungmin snickers to himself. “I named him _Poopy_.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Seriously?”

“I know, it’s mean,” Seungmin pats the kitten named Poopy on the head. “But he really looks like a Poopy.”

“He does,” Hyunjin says, trying to stifle another laugh. _Real mature, Hyunjin._

_What?_ He’s _the immature one_.

_Naming a poor kitten Poopy._

Stormy crawls out of Seungmin’s lap and onto Hyunjin’s hand, meowing.

“Stop! You’re going to get wet.” Seungmin and Hyunjin say at once, trying to get the kitten back in Seungmin’s lap with the others.

“Go, go,” Hyunjin gently nudges the kitten back under the umbrella, but she grabs his hand with a tiny paw as if to say, _Fucking try me, stupid human_.

“You could just get under the umbrella, too,” Seungmin says, nudging the umbrella handle on his shoulder to try and cover Hyunjin, too.

Hyunjin tries to duck under the umbrella, but he knocks his head against it, sending it flying away from them both. “Shit!”

“It’s okay!” Seungmin says, crouched over as he holds Sunny and Poopy close to his chest to try to keep them dry.

“I’ll get it, wait,” Hyunjin tucks Stormy into the pocket inside his raincoat and runs after the umbrella.

“Hyunjin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been stressed out of my mind because of Various things so i haven't been able to reply to comments and stuff but i really want to :c 
> 
> also i really baited everyone with minho's extension cord 🤪 SIKE it was seungmin all along SEUNGJIN RISE


	16. Jisung Gets Rumbled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Get all the boys out here and start a fire,” Jinyoung says, like it’s not up for debate. 
> 
> “Bring _all_ of them out?” Mark asks, always up for a debate. “But if we lose another one-”
> 
> “Teenage boys are like moths.” Jinyoung says. 
> 
> “They shed hair everywhere they go?” Mark shudders as he remembers the bathroom he has to clean when all the boys go home. 
> 
> “Well, that too,” Jinyoung shrugs. “But more importantly, they’re drawn to fire.”

Changbin finds Jisung running his underground little league gambling den in the corner, out of the coordinator’s and the Bears’ coach’s sight.

“How much have we earned?”

“ _We_?” Jisung asks, biting his tongue lightly as he focuses on dealing the cards. “What makes you think you’re entitled to-”

“Hit.” Says one of the Bears sitting around the makeshift card table (an overturned cardboard box that used to hold oranges, apparently).

Jisung slides him a card.

“I thought this was a fundraiser.” Changbin says, settling on the floor next to Jisung, who instinctively hides his cards from Changbin. “Dude, I’m not even playing.”

“Still not your cards.” Jisung mutters. “Hyunjoon?”

“Stand.” Their teammate replies, though his brow’s starting to sweat.

“Hyunjoon?” Changbin frowns at their teammate as the latter wipes his brow on his jersey.

“Sup, Changbin.”

“What about you?” Jisung asks one of the other Bears sitting around the table. “Don’t know your name.”

“Hit.”

Jisung lifts his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Stop trying to psych me out, man, just give me the goddamned card,” The Bear grumbles, tapping the table impatiently.

“Jeez, I was just gonna-” Jisung’s already sliding the card over when Changbin decides he’s seen enough.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Jisung?”

“As much as I’d love to finally get that heart-to-heart you promised me six months ago,” Jisung says, pointing at the next guy to ask if he wants another card. “I’m kinda busy right now.”

“ _Fundraising_.” Changbin says, crossing his arms.

“Sure, call it that.” Jisung looks around their cardboard box table. “Everyone good?”

Changbin can at least wait for them all to flip their cards out. The Bears all release all manners of groans and grumbles, and Hyunjoon buries his face in his hands with what sounds like a choked sob. Unsurprisingly, Jisung ends up scooping up all the coins and crumpled bills on the table.

“Jisung.” Changbin says urgently.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jisung scoops up all the cards and pockets the deck. “Your bets better be on the table when I get back.”

Changbin grabs Jisung by the sleeve and starts dragging him.

“Hey! Hey! This shirt is new!” Jisung whines, scrambling on the dusty floor after Changbin.

Changbin takes a fistful of Jisung’s sleeve and frowns at it. “All you wear are striped shirts, how am I supposed to know?”

Jisung egg rolls out of Changbin’s grasp, trying to iron his sleeve out with his fingers. “Okay, fine, I was bluffing, this shirt’s old as balls. What’s up?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. _Typical Jisung_. He takes a breath.

“TheonlyreasonwhyIletyoudothatstupidgamblingthingisbecausewewereusingthesedumbassBearstoearnmoneyfortheteamsowecouldactuallyrentsomewheretopractice-”

“Yeah, sure.” Jisung shrugs, having no trouble keeping up with Changbin. “What about it?”

“Then whY ARE YOU SCAMMING HYUNJOON TOO?” Changbin snaps, jerking one hand in Hyunjoon’s direction. Their teammate heaves a deep sigh as he empties his pockets into the betting pool. All he has left are a few rusty coins and a single mint.

“Shh! Don’t say the “S” word,” Jisung hisses urgently, clamping a hand over Changbin’s mouth. “You’re going to expose our whole- Jesus Christ you _fucking animal_!”

Changbin had bitten Jisung’s hand to get it off his mouth.

Changbin makes a gagging face as he wipes his mouth off on his sleeve. “Why is your hand so _salty_?”

“I’ve been handling money, dumbass,” Jisung says, wiping his hand off on his shorts. “Hope you enjoy dying from tetanus, Changbin.”

“Stop scamming our own fucking teammates!” Changbin hisses, slapping Jisung on the striped sleeve.

“But Hyunjoon’s _loaded_!” Jisung hisses back, slapping Changbin on the bare arm.

_Serves you right for giving everyone an unsolicited gun show,_ Changbin chides himself, rubbing the red mark Jisung’s hand left.

From almost across the cabin, Hyunjoon groans as he shakes out his wallet and only lint and receipts fall out.

“Well, he’s _relatively_ loaded,” Jisung shrugs. “ _Was_ loaded.”

“Just stop!” Changbin slaps Jisung’s arm again, mostly for revenge for his poor arm. “He’s still one of _ours_ , loaded or not!”

“Fine, fine!” Jisung throws his hands up to defend himself from another hit from Changbin. “You’re starting to sound like Cap. Jeez.”

Changbin doesn’t know if he should be offended or not. “…Anyway while Cap’s out, _I’m_ in charge.”

Jisung scoffs. “No you’re not. _Hyunjin_ is.”

“Is Hyunjin here right now?” Changbin asks. He’d meant it to be a bitchy rhetorical question, but when he and Jisung look around, Hyunjin’s nowhere to be seen. “Oh shit. I _am_ in charge.”

“ _You_? No way.” Jisung makes a face. “Cap’d deputize fucking _Felix_ before he puts _you_ in charge.”

“Hey. What’s wrong with Felix?” Changbin asks, squaring up to Jisung.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, dude,” Jisung backs away cautiously. “Don’t get distracted, we have a bigger problem now.”

“Yeah.” Changbin looks around again, but he’s accounted for everyone but their captain, who’s off… somewhere, and Hyunjin. “Do you think we should be worried?”

“Well,” Jisung’s eyes dart towards his makeshift card table. He’s been away long enough for one of the Bears, the impatient one, to get bored and leave. “Uh, most likely he’s just found a peaceful place to jerk off away from our prying eyes. Worst case scenario, he’s been eaten by wolves.”

“There are _wolves_ here?” Changbin yelps.

“I don’t know, man, this is the middle of fucking nowhere,” Jisung makes a wild circular gesture with one hand. “Who knows what could’ve happened to Hyunjin?”

“We should look for him.”

“Well, since _you’re_ in charge, you should start,” Jisung says, clapping his hands on Changbin’s shoulders.

“What about you?”

“I’ve got a game to finish.” Jisung runs off before Changbin can catch him again.

Changbin sighs. _Someone’s gotta look for Hyunjin…_

_And since_ I’m _in charge,_ Changbin thinks proudly. _It’s gonna be me._

 

Jinyoung is beyond exhausted when they finally roll into the camp. He doesn’t know how his dumb captain’s done it – probably with a charming smile and a _really_ strong bicep flex – but the kid’s managed to convince the other dumb captain to come back to the camp.

Jinyoung doesn’t question it any more than that. _Less work for me_.

“Come on.” Jinyoung says, waving a hand at them as he shuts off the engine. “They’re all probably waiting for us.”

He’s mistaken. Some of the boys seem busy trying to beat the crap out of Jisung, a few are asleep, and two are against the wall staring into their DS like it’s the face of god.

_No, wait that’s not a DS. What the hell is that new one called?_

_Fuck it, I’m old._

The only person waiting for them is Mark, who jumps when he sees Jinyoung. “Jinyoung!”

“Hey Mark,” Jinyoung looks around. “Where’s-”

“Y- your brother?” Mark asks nervously.

“No, Coach Park. We found Woojin.” Jinyoung says, unable to find that asshole lounging around like he probably would while one of his kids was missing. “He might want to know.”

“He’s in my cabin. _Resting_.” Mark says, and there’s an edge of understandable anger to his voice. “Got here half an hour ago.”

“Asshole.” Jinyoung mutters. He watches the Bears’ captain step into the cabin carefully, like he’s afraid the tiles are booby trapped – _booby trapped? Jinyoung, you sound like a senior citizen, what the fuck?_

His own captain is walking behind him, whispering something Jinyoung can’t hear. The Bears’ captain chuckles, then holds his face straight at he looks at his teammates. When nobody seems to react, he exhales and walks in more confidently.

One of the kids who’d been playing with that whatever-the-new-Nintendo-console-is-called jumps to his feet and screams as he runs over to tackle the Bears’ captain in… a bear hug.

Jinyoung watches to see what Woojin does, but he just smiles and pats his teammates on the head. Then he turns his attention back to Mark, who seems antsy.

Then he realizes.

“Wait, what were you saying about my brother?”

“N- nothing.”

Jinyoung looks around, wildly counting heads. “ _Mark._ ”

“Idon’tknowwhereheisI’msosorrypleasedon’tkillme,” Mark begs, dropping to his knees.

Jinyoung’s panicking inside, but he still has enough composure to roll his eyes before looking down at his upperclassman. “Get off the floor and help me look for him.”

 

“There’s this really nice tree in our school,” Hyunjin says, playing with Stormy. He brings his finger close enough for her to bite, then draws it away at the last moment, making her jump. “The janitor says it’s around fifty years old.”

“Cool.” Seungmin extends his leg to let Sunny walk down it. The rain had let up just after Hyunjin had lost the umbrella, which was good. The rain letting up, of course. Losing an umbrella is never good.

“You can see into all the windows until the third floor of the school building from the top of the tree.” Hyunjin laughs when Stormy frowns at him like, _Stop fucking around and let me bite the finger, you imbecile_.

“Oh, that must be pretty high, then.”

Hyunjin looks up. The flashlight isn’t very bright, but Seungmin’s looking a little green. “You don’t climb trees?”

“No.” Seungmin gives him a sheepish smile. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin can’t imagine what that’s like.

“It’s okay, it’s kind of stupid, really,” Seungmin wiggles his foot, and Sunny comes running back down his leg to snuggle up against his tummy. Poopy is sitting on his other leg, dozing off. “I can’t even climb the bleachers at school.”

Hyunjin doesn’t mean to judge him, but his face probably looks judgy, because Seungmin starts laughing.

“I only joined the varsity so I’d never have to climb bleachers.”

“I joined the varsity so people wouldn’t pick on me.”

Seungmin frowns. “I was joking.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin laughs. “I wasn’t.”

Seungmin scratches Sunny behind the ears, watching Hyunjin more closely than Hyunjin’s comfortable with. “People used to pick on you? _Why_?”

Hyunjin focuses on Stormy to try to ignore Seungmin’s gaze. “They just did. What do you mean, _why_?”

“You seem like a really cool guy,” Seungmin says. “And you’re tall and good-looking, I don’t know why people would pick on you.”

Hyunjin frowns. No one’s ever called him that to his face, and he’s not sure what to say. _Thanks?_ No, that sounds conceited. _No I’m not really._ That sounds like he’s fishing for compliments.

He settles on, “You’re good-looking, too.”

“Thanks.” Seungmin grins. He picks Sunny up and snuggles her against his cheek. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Usually when people bug him like this – namely, Jisung and Changbin – Hyunjin just shuts them out and closes the conversation with something they won’t be able to counter. Usually it’s something a bit mean, so Hyunjin feels like he can’t do it to Seungmin.

“It’s because of my brother.” Hyunjin says.

“The coach?”

“Yeah, well,” Hyunjin almost accidentally lets Stormy bite his finger. “He wasn’t always a coach.”

 

“Hey, Mark.”

Mark whips around. “Yes, sir?”

Jinyoung makes a face. “Dude, you’re older than me.”

“Right.” _Mark, you were two years ahead of him in school. Act cool, Mark._

“Can you build a campfire?”

Mark looks around. They’ve searched around the cabins for Jinyoung’s brother – except inside Mark’s cabin, because Jinyoung refuses to even _see_ his namesake, which seems to be for the best. Mark doesn’t want homicide in his camp.

“It’s kinda damp out,” Mark stretches a hand out, but no rain falls on it. “But I guess so? I have some kindling in the cabin. But what about your broth-”

“Okay, get all the boys out here and start a fire,” Jinyoung says, like it’s not up for debate.

“Bring _all_ of them out?” Mark asks, always up for a debate. “But if we lose another one-”

“Teenage boys are like moths.” Jinyoung says.

“They shed hair everywhere they go?” Mark shudders as he remembers the bathroom he has to clean when all the boys go home.

“Well, that too,” Jinyoung shrugs. “But more importantly, they’re drawn to fire. If my brother’s managed to get his dumb ass lost out there, he’ll probably be able to find the fire and come back here.”

“That’s…” Mark looks up at Jinyoung, who’s just _starting_ to lose his cool composure. “…really smart.”

“I know I am.” Jinyoung flicks his flashlight on again. “Get the fire started. I’ll just look around the trees here.”

 

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” Chan asks, knowing full well that Jisung’s swindling four Bears and Hyunjoon out of all their pocket money using a dog-eared deck of cards and an old orange crate.

“Cap! Sure is lovely to see you again-”

“Give them their money back.” Chan crosses his arms. “ _Now_.”

“But it’s for the _team_!” Jisung protests, clutching the pouch full of his winnings to his chest.

“I- Jisung, give them their money back. All of it.” Chan says. He frowns as he looks around. “Where’s Hyunjin?”

“About that…” Jisung says, emptying the pouch reluctantly onto the card table.

“Where is he?”

“Missing.”

“ _What_?” Chan’s voice breaks. “And you’re not worried??? Where’s Changbin?”

Jisung stands up suddenly, looking deeply hurt. “ _Changbin_ was your second choice?”

“What?” Chan frowns at him. _What’s he on about now?_ “Where is Changbin?”

“Looking for Hyunjin.”

Chan rubs his temples. He shouldn’t have left them in the first place.

_Why_ did _you leave them to look for the other team’s captain anyway?_

Chan looks over at Woojin, who’s looking over Felix’s shoulder while one of the younger Bears sits on Felix’s other side, chattering on about the game Felix is playing.

_I couldn’t_ not _have looked for him_. Chan’s hurting his own brain with all those negatives.

“Jisung, you’re in cha-” Chan catches himself. The last time he left someone else in charge earlier that afternoon, they’d apparently gone missing. And someone else had gone missing. “Jisung, round up all the guys-”

“Everyone!” The coordinator says, bursting into the cabin. “Campfire outside by the picnic tables!”

A few heads turn, but that’s about it for the reaction he gets.

“ _With_ _marshmallows_!” The coordinator adds, his smile getting strained.

The boys cheer.

_So much for looking for Hyunjin._

 

Hyunjin stops listening to Seungmin for a moment. He can see light gray smoke puffing up into the early evening sky, and it seems nearby enough to be from the camp.

_Doesn’t seem that big, though. Maybe they’re starting to cook dinner or something._

“Sorry, Seungmin, what did you say?”

“Your brother didn’t do anything?”

“Well, no,” Hyunjin shrugs. “He’d already graduated by then. And it’s not his fault everyone liked him so much.”

_And no one likes me._

_Except maybe Stormy._ Hyunjin smiles down at the kitten trying to sneak into his shirt for warmth.

_And Seungmin._ Hyunjin looks up to find Seungmin frowning.

“The other guys are always saying people from your school are stupid.”

“Are they?” Hyunjin can imagine how angry Changbin would get if he heard that.

Seungmin nods. “Maybe they _are_ stupid if they treat you badly just because you’re not your brother.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something, but something bursts into the clearing.

No, it’s a some _one_.

“Oh, thank _fuck_.”

“Hyung?” Hyunjin frowns at his brother, who’s got twigs and leaves in his hair and is sweating right through his sweatshirt (though that’s probably what they’re for, if you think about it).

Hyunjin’s brother, sweat and twigs and all, envelops Hyunjin in one of the nastiest embraces he’s ever been forced into. _And that’s considering I’m teammates with some of the clingiest, most shower-averse guys in the entire country._

“Huh.” Jinyoung backs away, frowning at the lump in Hyunjin’s shirt.

The lump meows, and Stormy peeks up through the neckline.

“This is Stormy.” Hyunjin explains.

“Hello… Stormy.” Jinyoung frowns.

“And this is Seungmin,” Hyunjin nods in Seungmin’s direction.

Seungmin waves. “Good evening, Other Coach Park.”

Hyunjin’s brother bristles at that. “ _He’s_ the “other” Coach Park. Come on, we should get back to the camp. They’ve probably cleaned up all the marsh-”

“What’ll we do about the kittens?” Hyunjin asks.

“ _There’s more than one_?”

As if on cue, Sunny and Poopy crawl out of Seungmin’s baggy jacket, mewling. Actually, it’s Hyunjin’s jacket, but Seungmin had gotten cold and Hyunjin hadn’t.

“What.” Jinyoung frowns as Seungmin cradles the kittens in his arms.

“This is Sunny,” Seungmin raises the yellow kitten. He hugs the brown one. “And this is Poopy.”

Jinyoung snorts, then catches himself, clearing his throat. “I mean, pets aren’t allowed in the camp. Besides, you should leave them with their mother-”

“I don’t think they have one.” Hyunjin says.

“We’ve been taking care of them since yesterday.” Seungmin adds.

Jinyoung heaves a sigh. “But we can’t bring them back with us-”

“They’ll die if we leave them here.” Hyunjin says. He can feel Seungmin bristling next to him with a weird kind of energy, like the boy’s ready to put the kittens down and punch Hyunjin’s brother in the face if the latter even _suggests_ leaving them to die.

But Hyunjin knows his brother better than that.

“Ughhh, gosh,” Jinyoung groans. “This is going to be hell to explain to Mark.”

Hyunjin grins at Seungmin, who beams back at him.

 

“I would like to offer this toast to our captain, Bang Chan…”

Chan smiles at his teammate, who’s raising a toasted marshmallow on a stick.

“…for getting us our money back from Jisung!”

Chan’s smile falters. _Jeez, Jisung._

Hyunjoon and a handful of the Bears who’d probably also been scammed by Jisung cheer and raise their marshmallows.

“And now,” Jisung says, standing on a chair. Chan’s got to hand it to him. He’s bold enough to be acting like this after turning half the camp against him. “A song courtesy of the Weevils’ official songmaster!”

Chan frowns. “We don’t have a-”

Changbin jumps up onto a table out of nowhere. He’s holding a tennis racket – god knows where he got it from – like a guitar and gives it an experimental strum.

It sounds _terrible_.

“Everybody sing along if you know this song!” He says, scraping the tennis racket with his nails again. “ _TODAY IS GONNA BE THE DAY THAT THEY’RE GONNA THROW IT BACK TO YOU…”_

Chan sighs and sinks back into his seat, letting the noise wash over him like a surfer who’s given up working against the ocean. At least he knows Changbin’s safe.

“Hey.” A voice says quietly beside him, under his teammates’ and even some of Bears’ shouting.

“Hi.” Chan holds up his stick of half-burnt marshmallows. “Want one?”

“No thanks.” Woojin waves a hand politely to decline it.

“You haven’t had any yet.”

“You’ve been _counting_?”

“No, of course not.” Chan bites a marshmallow off self-consciously. He hopes the light from the fire is red enough to make his face seem like a normal color. “But anyway, you should get some before my teammates finish it up.”

“Let them, it’s fine.” Woojin says. “I’m on a diet.”

Chan frowns, looking Woojin down from head to toe. “ _You_? Are on a diet? _Why_?”

“It’s not _that_ sort of diet.” Woojin looks so disgusted that Chan wishes he had his phone to take a picture. “I just don’t eat food with refined sugar.”

Chan chews thoughtfully on his marshmallow. _Refined sugar? Isn’t that… just sugar? This poor guy doesn’t eat sugar? No wonder he’s so unhappy._

_Aside from the obvious reasons._

“Refined sugar is life.” Chan bites off another marshmallow.

“Hate to break it to you,” Woojin smiles. “But it’s actually the opposite.”

“Oh, really?” Chan bites off a third marshmallow.

“It shortens your life span.” Woojin says, making a face when Chan bites off a fourth.

Chan’s cheeks are stuffed as he forces out the words, “Ah heew da wiv wehw, nod wong.”

Woojin laughs. “I totally understood that.”

Chan chews and swallows. “As expected from a genius.”

Woojin’s smile fades.

“Hey, come on, I didn’t mean it like that-” Chan notices Woojin’s looking at something behind him. Chan whirls around to find Coach Park – _their_ Coach Park, not Chan’s – walking out of the coordinator’s cabin.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing he asks when he sees Woojin.

Woojin grinds his teeth and says nothing, so Chan leans forward into the space between Woojin and his coach, saying, “We’re toasting marshmallows, Coach Park, sir, if you want some.”

“That high fructose corn syrup is bad.” The coach says, though he’s looking at Woojin, not Chan.

_Seems like people who are tetchy about sugar and syrup are just setting themselves up to be upset._

Woojin takes the stick out of Chan’s hands and bites off the last marshmallow. “Tastes fine to me.”

Coach Park only scowls as he turns to leave. The coordinator’s noticed him, and seems to be making his way over to ask him something, but the coach doesn’t seem interested in finding out what that is.

Chan looks back at Woojin, who’s chewing on the marshmallow with a funny look on his face. _Don’t forget your phone next time._

_Not that there’s going to be a next time._

“What’s up?” Chan asks.

“This shit is _so_ good.” Woojin says, grinning with bits of burnt marshmallow stuck to his teeth.

“You’ve got a little…” Chan points at his own teeth, then at Woojin’s. “Right there.”

“I don’t care.” Woojin’s smile widens. “You think there are any more marshmallows left?”

“Knowing Jisung,” Chan says, getting up. “He’s probably put some aside to resell at a higher price…”

“Smart guy.”

Chan smiles to himself. _Trust Woojin to find_ that _admirable._

 

Later that night, Woojin can’t fall asleep. _Fucking refined sugar._

He’s also very, very much aware that Chan’s snoring four beds away. If Woojin turns onto his side, he can see just the edge of Chan’s shoulder outlined by light streaming in from outside.

So he faces the wall, so he can focus. _This isn’t over. Coach Park’s still bumped me off Team A. My future’s still in limbo._

And yet, it doesn’t seem to sting so much. Sure, there’s this hollow feeling tugging at his stomach every time he thinks about it, but it seems to be numbed just a little bit.

_It’s the refined sugar, Woojin, that’s why you don’t eat that shit, it’s like unregulated cocaine._

Woojin snickers to himself at the idea.

He hears Jeongin roll over in bed. The kid’s not snoring, so he’s probably still awake.

“Jeongin?” Woojin whispers without turning to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry for disappearing on you a while ago.”

“It’s okay, Cap.” Jeongin yawns. “I knew you’d come back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

When Jeongin doesn’t reply, Woojin rolls over. The freshman’s lying on his back, mouth open as he snores quietly.

Woojin smiles to himself and shuts his eyes to try and get some sleep, but just as he’s starting to drift off, he hears a loud clattering noise.

Woojin sits up. _If someone’s trying to rob this camp, they’re going to be seriously disappointed._

No one else seems to have heard the noise – everyone else seems fast asleep, even the Weevils’ coach, who’s on a cot by the door. He seems like a light sleeper, like he sleeps with one eye open – even if Woojin can see that the guy’s got a black eye mask on, he doesn’t doubt that he can see _everything_.

So when the coach doesn’t even stir, Woojin lays back down again.

_“Could we have Woojin’s backpack back, please?” Chan had asked as soon as the Weevils’ minibus had stopped in the parking lot._

_“Huh?” The Weevils’ Coach had lifted his eyebrows. “What backpack?”_

_“_ Coach _.” Chan had gulped as he looked at Woojin. If Woojin had had his phone then, he would’ve taken a photo. The other captain looked_ hilarious.

_“Kidding, it’s right here.” The coach had lifted the driver’s seat to reveal a shallow compartment. He’d pulled Woojin’s backpack out of the compartment and thrown it over without another word. “Don’t go running away again.”_

_When the coach had gotten out of earshot, Chan had said, “He’s really nice, I swear. Just doesn’t seem like it all the time.”_

Woojin had felt that. He liked the Weevils’ coach, even if he _was_ technically a failure for leading his failure of a team right into – you guessed it – failure. Somehow Woojin has a hard time thinking _that_ guy would be such a crappy coach, and he’s got the inkling that maybe the Weevils had another coach last year, but he hadn’t noticed.

He’d just noticed their captain, jumping around and cheering like a one-man cheer squad, soccer mom, and school mascot. The Weevils were demolished by the Bears in the one game they played last year – 24 to 0. That 0 had almost become a 1, no thanks to the Weevils’ captain.

_Come to think of it, we only got him out by sheer dumb luck._ Woojin remembers the game, like he remembers every game he’s ever played. In 1080p with Minho’s bitchy side comments. He remembers how hard Chan had played, like it was the last game of his _career_ , or he was the main character of some uplifting Christian movie.

All the Bears had been laughing at Chan because of how desperate he looked, the _only_ player in the entire team who seemed to want to win, but Woojin doesn’t find it all that funny now. _That’s just how Chan is._

_Too much_ _of everything._

Woojin hears another noise. He sits up, but no one seems to mind. Everyone around him seems to be snoring away happily, stuffed to the chin with marshmallows.

Something falls with a crash this time.

Woojin sits up and puts his slippers on. He reaches under his bed for a titanium bat. He’s just crept to the door, all the way around the dozing coach, when someone puts a hand on his shoulder.

Woojin isn’t the type of person who screams when startled. He’s the type who _swings_.

The bat hits something solid with a resounding _thwack_.

“Ow…”

“Oh my god.” Woojin nearly drops the bat, but he has the sense to put it down gently at the last second. “Shit, are you – No, you’re not okay, I’m so sorry.”

Chan crumples into a heap on the floor, holding onto his arm where the bat had hit him.

“Does it hurt a lot? Is it broken?” Woojin whispers anxiously, kneeling on the floor next to him.

“No, I don’t think so,” Chan lifts his arm with a small wince. “But that is gonna _bruise_.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell is going on?” The Weevils’ coach lifts his eye mask, squinting at them in the dim light from outside.

“I… um…” Woojin looks at the bat, then at Chan, then at Chan’s coach.

“We were just playing around, Coach.” Chan says, but his face is still screwed up in pain.

“Whatever,” The Weevils’ coach slides his eye mask back on. “Don’t make a lot of noise.”

Woojin opens his mouth to promise he won’t, but something else falls with a pretty loud crash. The Weevils’ coach settles into his cot, unbothered.

Chan nudges Woojin. “What was that?”

“Don’t know.” Woojin tries to see how Chan’s arm is doing, but it’s under a thick hoodie sleeve. _Hopefully that protected it?_ “Should we check it out?”

“I think so.” Chan picks up Woojin’s bat and hands it to him.

“You don’t have one?” Woojin asks, gripping the bat as Chan turns the doorknob slowly.

“No, the only ones we have are Coach’s,” Chan says, sounding a little embarrassed.

Woojin feels more embarrassed. _You_ knew _they didn’t have any of their own, don’t be a stuck-up asshole._

Chan opens the door, and the air outside is almost icy. The Weevils’ coach shivers in his cot, but doesn’t get up. They close the door securely behind them to keep the cold out. Woojin shivers in his light sweater, gripping the bat.

They hear another crash. Chan grabs Woojin by the arm. “Over here.” He whispers.

Woojin knew where the sound had come from, but he lets Chan drag him by the sleeve anyway.

They creep up to the kitchen, on one side of the coordinator’s cabin. It has a door of its own, and one inside leading into the cabin, but Woojin seriously doubts the coordinator’s up at this hour making a fucking mess of everything.

_Well, who knows, I don’t really know the guy._

Chan grips Woojin’s arm tighter, and Woojin feels the blood getting cut off from his fingers. He’s not sure if it’s revenge for Woojin whacking Chan with a bat, but it sure is _uncomfortable_.

“I can’t feel my fingers.” Woojin whispers, when it gets difficult for him to keep holding onto the bat.

“Oh. Sorry.” Chan whispers, stuffing his hand quickly into the front pocket of his hoodie.  

Something else lands with a crash in the kitchen.

Woojin lifts the bat, twisting his hands until his grip gets comfortable.

Chan glances at him, barely lit by the half-moon above. His expression says something like, _Should I open the door now or…_

Woojin nods. _Do it._

Chan pulls the door open.


	17. “Jesus H. Christ where did those come from” -Mark Tuan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan forces his eyes open, but they’re really puffy. _I’m probably coming down with a cold._
> 
> The person sleeping against his shoulder groans softly. Chan turns to find the Bears’ captain rubbing his eyes against Chan’s shoulder. “My back…”
> 
> “What the hell happened here?” 
> 
> Chan and Woojin look up to find the camp’s coordinator sorting hopelessly through the mess in the kitchen that was formerly viable food, like they had the night before.

When Chan pulls the door open, Woojin looks for some figure to attack, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone inside, unless they’re crouching by the overturned cooler.

_The WHAT_?

Woojin puts the bat down and flicks the lights on. The cooler with all of their food is turned over, the box with all the Weevils’ food is also turned over, and the floor is strewn with food and bits of broken glass and plastic.

“What the…” Chan bends over to turn over his team’s ruined box.

A small noise echoes from inside the box, and when Chan lifts it, three tiny kittens crawl out.

“The _fuck_?” Woojin frowns as one of them treads over the spilled food and starts chewing on Woojin’s slipper.

Chan’s already knelt in the mess on the floor to pick up one of the kittens. “Hey there little guy, what are you guys doing here?”

Woojin gently pushes the kitten away from his slipper. “Who cares how they got in here, we need to get them _out_.”

Then he looks out the screen door to find that it’s started raining again. He turns back to find Chan pouting up at him, one kitten in each arm.

_What am I supposed to do? Say no to that face?_

“They’ve ruined our food.” Woojin grumbles, handing Chan the third kitten while he checks the overturned boxes and coolers for survivors. Of which there are none. There isn’t nearly enough food to feed one person, much less two teams for breakfast and lunch the next day. “ _All_ of our food.”

“I’m sure they didn’t mean to.”

“Of course not! They’re _animals_! They never _mean_ to do anything!” Woojin flips an empty plastic container over in exasperation.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s just had a long day,” Chan coos at the kittens cradled in his arms.

“Chan.” Woojin sighs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “What are we going to _do_?”

“Wanna hold a kitten?” Chan lifts the yellow one up with one hand. “It helps.”

“I don’t see how-”

“It helps.” Chan says more firmly.

What can Woojin do but take the kitten from him and cradle it against his chest with a long, long sigh?

 

Chan wakes up to find his nose running from the cold. Something’s squirming against his chest, and he looks down to find two kittens inside his hoodie. _Cute_.

The door into the cabin opens suddenly. “What- _What-_ WHAT?”

Chan forces his eyes open, but they’re really puffy. _I’m probably coming down with a cold._

The person sleeping against his shoulder groans softly. Chan turns to find the Bears’ captain rubbing his eyes against Chan’s shoulder. “My _back_ …”

“What the hell happened here?”

Chan and Woojin look up to find the camp’s coordinator sorting hopelessly through the mess in the kitchen that was formerly viable food, like they had the night before.

“The kittens messed everything up.” Chan says. The brown kitten pops out of his hoodie and meows as if on cue.

“ _What_ kittens- Jesus H. Christ where did those come from?” The coordinator flattens himself against the wall when he sees the kittens crawling out from under Chan’s hoodie.

Woojin cradles the third kitten in his arms. “Don’t know. We just found them here last night.”

“That’s cute and all,” The coordinator says, turning his nose away with the panic and urgency of someone who is clearly allergic to cats. “But what the hell are we going to _eat_?”

 

Seungmin doesn’t usually push or shove, even in a crowd, but he does nudge people out of the way with his elbows when he hears people shouting about cats.

“Excuse me, sorry, sorry, excuse me,” He murmurs, wriggling his way to the front of the crowd. It seems like the whole camp is still half asleep, but cognitive enough to form a little ring around the camp coordinator, who’s shouting his head off at the Weevils’ captain for letting cats into the kitchen.

“What the _hell_ were you think-” The coordinator stops to sneeze violently into his elbow. A bit of the crowd backs off, but not by much. “Were you even thinking?”

“It’s the only place they’d stay dry-”

“Yeah, because that’s where we put our food so our _food_ would stay dry!”

“It’s not-”

“Get out of my way!” Coach Park’s voice comes booming from somewhere outside the crowd, which parts like the Red Sea. He stomps in, pajamas and all, looking ready to murder someone without a second thought about getting blood on his teddy bear PJs. “What the _hell_ happened to all of our food?”

The coordinator hesitates. “A bunch of wild animals got in and-”

“Did you catch them?” Coach Park asks.

“Y- Yes.” The coordinator looks nervously at the Weevils’ Coach, who’s getting a little pale.

“Where are they?”

Seungmin follows everyone’s line of sight to Woojin and the Weevils’ captain, who are carrying Sunny, Stormy, and Poopy.

He can hardly watch as Coach Park storms over and grabs Poopy before the Weevils’ captain can stop him.

“These things carry disease.” Coach Park says, holding Poopy by the skin of his back. “You need to drown them when they’re still young.”

 

Woojin’s breath catches in his throat when Coach Park snatches the kitten out of Chan’s grasp. He just knows that nothing good can come of this, and he’s about to say something himself when Seungmin – sweet, mild-mannered fricking _Seungmin_ \- busts out of fucking nowhere and tackles Coach Park to the ground.

“Seungmin!” Woojin nearly drops the kittens in his arms. “Seung _min_!”

“DON’T YOU DARE HURT THEM!” Seungmin’s managed to wrestle the brown kitten out of Coach Park’s hands, not that the bigger man is really fighting back. He’s probably like the rest of them – too fucking confused to even move.

Woojin seems to snap to attention, from the realization that _This is really happening_ to _Oh fuck I have to stop him_.

“Can you hold these for a second,” He turns and passes the kittens into Chan’s arms, nearly knocking foreheads with the other captain.

“Sure.”

Woojin wraps his arms around Seungmin, pulling the younger boy off their coach. “Seungmin, relax, he’s not going to do anything-”

“LEAVE THEM ALONE!”

Woojin’s struggling to hold onto Seungmin, who’s wriggling like a worm on crack. “Seungmin, the cats are safe-”

“THEY BETTER BE!”

“Jesus- _SEUNGMIN_!” Woojin shouts, turning to the side to throw Seungmin off-balance. “THE CATS ARE FINE! SEE?”

As if in response, the yellow cat meows in Chan’s arms.

“Oh.” Seungmin’s expression snaps back to his usual placid smile, like someone had flicked a switch.

_This kid is seriously… not normal._ Woojin sighs as Seungmin picks the kittens up, murmuring something to them, probably in some crazy cat boy language.

“Hey!” Coach Park’s managed to get up without anyone helping him. _Not that anyone would_. “You!”

_He doesn’t even know Seungmin’s name._ Woojin almost wants to laugh. Instead he turns, making himself a wall between Seungmin and the coach.

“Get out of my way.” Coach Park tries to push Woojin, but Woojin hasn’t gotten this far being someone that you can just _push_ aside.

Woojin stands his ground, jaw clenched.

“Get out. Of my way.” Coach Park says, narrowing his eyes down at Woojin. They both know this isn’t about Seungmin or some dumb cats, and that Woojin’s risking pretty much _everything_ by not stepping out of the way.

Someone’s hand lands on Woojin’s arm, gently, but firmly pushing him out of the way with little effort. “I’m sure your coach didn’t really mean to hurt the cats.”

Woojin turns to find the Weevils’ coach stepping between him and Coach Park, just like he had done for Seungmin earlier.

“You should start packing,” The Weevils’ coach says loudly, addressing the rest of the boys who’d just been watching everything unfold with wide eyes. “We’ll probably have to head home earlier than planned, since we haven’t got any food.”

“Okay, guys, let’s go pack up,” The Weevils’ captain echoes, starting to herd his teammates towards the cabin.

The Weevils’ coach looks at Woojin then, one eyebrow up as if to ask, _Are you really going to test_ me _?_

Woojin usually hates taking orders from anyone, least of all people who don’t actually have any authority over him, but today’s been strange from the get-go, so he does the strange thing, too.

Woojin nods politely and starts for the cabin, knowing the rest of his teammates will follow.

 

Jeongin’s worried. Woojin’s been acting weird ever since he got back. It’s not that Woojin isn’t usually nice, he’s just not usually… _this_ nice. It’s like Woojin’s been replaced by some bodysnatching Fake Woojin alien that doesn’t even know what Woojin’s really like.

“Jeongin.”

Jeongin jumps three feet off the ground in surprise. “Y- Yeah, Cap?”

Woojin – or _Fake_ Woojin??? – frowns at him. “Is this yours?” He holds up a pair of peach boxers with a happy duckling pattern.

“Yes.” Jeongin hisses, grabbing the shorts before anyone sees them. The other guys are busy packing, too, but who knows who might be looking their way.

“Hey, Woojin?” The Weevils’ captain’s leaning on the ladder of Woojin’s bed.

_Speak of the devil_. Jeongin shrinks away to the far side of the bed while the Weevils’ captain talks quietly with his captain.

He’s still listening, of course. What kind of a sidekick would he be if he weren’t listening in?

“…sure you’re okay?” Jeongin catches the Weevils’ captain saying. The guy is _whispering_ , he really is.

Woojin carries on folding his clothes without looking up. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal.”

“He’s not mad at you?”

“He already was, Chan.”

Jeongin frowns. _Since when were they_ friends _friends???_

The Weevils’ captain picks up a pair of socks hanging on the ladder and hands it over to Woojin. “That’s not what I-”

“I’m gonna be fine.” Woojin says firmly, but he’s looking at Jeongin like, _Gotcha._

Jeongin screws his face up into a grimace and looks away in a hurry, but he’s already been rumbled.

“You’re still welcome to ride home with us.” The Weevils’ captain says.

“No thanks, I’m gonna be okay with my team.” Woojin insists, giving the other captain a pointed look. “Thanks for offering, though.”

“But-”

“Chan.” Woojin nods in Jeongin’s general direction. Jeongin pretends not to notice, but the other captain doesn’t seem to get Woojin’s point _at all_. Jeongin chortles – against his will, it’s a reflex – earning a sharp look from Woojin.

Jeongin pretends to cough, and the Weevils’ captain actually freaking _pats him on the back_.

_Is this guy for real?_

“Yo! Jeongin!” Minho’s screaming about something again. Jeongin, in a burst of maturity, ignores him. “Jeongin! Jeongiiiin!”

“What do you want!” Jeongin sputters when he can’t keep ignoring Minho. Woojin and the Weevils’ captain grin at each other, then go back to packing their bags.

“It’s your mom.” Minho explains.

“What about her?” Jeongin is nervous, reasonably so. “Did she call-”

“No, dude, she’s _here_.” Minho snickers. “And she’s brought a _shit-ton_ of food.”

Woojin perks up at that, still holding a half-folded shirt when he breathes, “God bless Jeongin’s mom.”


	18. Mama Ex Machina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woojin hears footsteps crunching in the leaves behind him. 
> 
> He rolls his eyes, but he lets himself smile a little bit.
> 
> “Leave me alone.” Woojin says on instinct.
> 
> “Oh, no way am I doing _that_.” Chan says, catching up to him with a little sprint. 
> 
> “I’m not going anywhere, I’m just going for a walk.” Woojin says. “Alone.”
> 
> “Who’s to say I wasn’t doing the same thing?”

“MOOOOOOMMYYYY!” Jeongin stumbles down the steps as he runs towards the bright orange coupe parked next to their bus. The boot of the coupe is open, and his mom’s attempting to lift a plastic container as big as her son.

“I can take that, honey,” Jeongin’s dad says, returning from the picnic table, which is now covered in plastic containers full of food.

“Oh, thank you so much, darling,” Jeongin’s mom says, huffing as she drops the giant plastic container in her husband’s waiting arms.

Jeongin wants to vomit.

“Hi there, baby!” Jeongin’s mom flings her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace that smells suspiciously of kimbap.

“Moooooommyyy,” Jeongin whines, looking back at all the other boys watching him with bemused grins. “You’re embarrassing meeeeee.”

“I was just worried you wouldn’t have enough to eat,” His mom pecks the top of his head affectionately. “My Mommy Senses were tingling.”

_Well, they were right_ this _time_. _Still…_

“Ms. Kim!”

Jeongin and his mother turn to find Coach Park walking over with a weirdly cheerful look on his face.

“Hello, Coach Park,” Jeongin’s mom wraps her arms around Jeongin, swinging him gently from side to side. “I’m so sorry to intrude like this but-”

“ _Intrude_? On the contrary, you’ve saved us all a _lot_ of trouble! You’re truly heaven-sent, Ms. Kim,” When Coach Park shakes Jeongin’s mother’s hand so enthusiastically that Jeongin _really_ wants to vomit.

“Oh.” Jeongin’s mother’s easygoing smile tilts into a grimace. _She looks like she wants to vomit, too._ “I, um, you’re welcome, of course.”

“Jeongin, go run along and ask Woojin to set the tables for breakfast.” Coach Park pretty much barks at Jeongin, which makes the latter’s mom visibly bristle with irritation.

“I can do that, Coach.” Jeongin’s mom says. “Jeonginnie can help me.”

“There’s no need, Ms. Kim, you’ve already done more than enough, and I’m sure you’re tired from the drive here-”

“My husband drove.”

“Besides,” Coach Park goes on, unfazed. “Woojin’s assigned to kitchen duty, he’s got to do _something_.”

Jeongin’s possessed by an urge to just _Seungmin_ the fuck out and tackle their terrible coach to the ground. But he can’t because his mom’s there and he needs to at least pretend to be the well-behaved, polite baby she raised from scratch.

“It’s okay, Mommy, I can set the tables on my own.” Jeongin pats his mom on the arm.

“Get Woojin to help you.” Coach Park insists.

“Yes, Coach.” Jeongin says dryly.

 

Hyunjin has just finished stomping on his clothes and zipping up his bag when the camp coordinator barges into the cabin.

“Jinyoung!”

Hyunjin points in the general direction of his brother, who’s currently trying to help Changbin fit his clothes back into his backpack.

“How did these fit when you packed them in the first pla-”

“Jinyoung!” The coordinator grabs Hyunjin’s brother by the sleeve. “One of the Bears’ parents came and brought food.”

“Good on them.”

“It’s enough food for a small army, man,” The coordinator tugs Jinyoung to the cabin’s front window. He points at the picnic tables in the distance, where the Bears are starting to cluster around a tall, svelte woman unpacking _crates_ of food. “They could easily spare enough for your team.”

Hyunjin looks over at his brother to find this familiar look in his eyes. Hyunjin rolls his own eyes.

“She’s someone’s _mother_ , hyung.” Hyunjin says. “She literally birthed one of the _Bears_.”

“Still pretty hot, though.”

The camp coordinator makes a scandalized noise. “Jinyoung, _seriously_!”

“What?” Hyunjin’s brother grins as he cracks his neck. “I’m not gonna _do_ anything.”

Hyunjin gives his brother a look that says, _Oh, really._

 

“Chan, just follow my lead, and don’t say anything unless it seems like a good time to say something.”

“What?” Chan frowns at their coach. He usually feels like the gears in their coach’s head turn faster than his own – or maybe that the inside of their Coach Park’s head is a computer and his brain is a wind-up toy – but he’s especially lost right now.

“Perfect. Keep doing that.” Their coach gives him two thumbs up as they cross the green to the picnic tables. “Hello! Ms. Kim!”

An exceptionally pretty woman unpacking rolls of kimbap stops, one roll in each hand. She hesitates for a moment, then waves one hand, roll and all, in their direction and smiles so warmly that Chan _feels_ it in his… heart?

“You must be Mark?” The woman asks Jinyoung. “We spoke over the phone.”

For a second Chan is seriously afraid that his coach is going to try to con this perfectly nice-looking woman.

“Oh, no, ma’am, I’m the coach of the other team that’s here.” Jinyoung laughs in a way that sounds good-natured, but to Chan sounds more than a little practiced. “We’re the W------ High Weevils-”

“Did every team in the district come here?” The woman asks, looking around at the boys already gathering around the picnic tables like ants around crumbs. Woojin and the younger kid – _Jeongin? Is his name Jeongin?_ – are trying to shoo them away while they help lay the food out on the table.

“No, ma’am, just us two teams.” Jinyoung leans on the edge of the table in a way that Chan can only mark off as _shamelessly flirty_. “Do you need any help with that, Ms. Kim?”

“Mo _mmy_!” Jeongin cuts between the coach and the woman Chan supposes must be his mom. Chan tries not to laugh at the sour look his coach is giving the kid.

“Yes?”

“Cap’s asking if we can share some of our food with the Weevils,” Jeongin says.

Chan glances over at Woojin, who keeps unpacking paper cups like he hadn’t heard anything.

“Oh, of course,” Jeongin’s mother says. “I’m sure there’s enough to go around.”

Chan’s still studying the blank expression on Woojin’s face when he hears his coach say, “Thank you so much, Ms. Kim.”

Jeongin’s mother smiles sweetly at Jinyoung. “Please, call me Auntie.”

The coach’s easygoing smile falters a little bit. “Thanks… _Auntie_.”

 

Woojin wants to sit and eat with the rest of the team like he usually can, but he loses his appetite at the sight of Coach Park sitting with them, eating and laughing like nothing’s wrong.

_Well, nothing_ is _wrong for him,_ Woojin thinks as he gets up, surreptitiously emptying what’s left on his plate onto Jeongin’s. The kid doesn’t notice, because he’s too busy shooing everyone away from his completely oblivious mom. Normally Woojin would’ve stuck around just to watch all the other teenage boys losing their minds over Jeongin’s mom, but he’s not having so much fun watching them make absolute fools of themselves today.

Woojin tosses his paper plate into a garbage bag and starts walking towards the woods. He’s not running away again, he just needs to get as far away from Coach Park as he can… for now.

Woojin still doesn’t know what he plans to do. It’s not as if he can really avoid Coach Park. It’s not as if he can just quit baseball in his last year of high school.

He hears footsteps crunching in the leaves behind him.

Woojin rolls his eyes, but he lets himself smile a little bit.

“Leave me alone.” Woojin says on instinct.

“Oh, no way am I doing _that_.” Chan says, catching up to him with a little sprint.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m just going for a walk.” Woojin says. “Alone.”

“Who’s to say I wasn’t doing the same thing?”

“Alone.” Woojin says again, a little more forcefully this time, though if he’s learned anything about the other captain in the past two days, it’s that the guy seriously can _not_ take a hint.

“Maybe it’s not good for you to be alone right now.”

“Maybe I need it.”

“Maybe you don’t.”

Woojin doesn’t have the energy to keep arguing in circles like this, like fucking _toddlers_. “Chan. Give me space or I will _make_ space.”

“You’re gonna hit me again?” Chan says, but he’s grinning.  

“No.” _But I’m tempted to._ Woojin turns and looks at the chain-link fence to his left. “And for the record, you punched me first.”

“Because you deserved it, asshole.” Chan laughs.

Woojin rolls his eyes and stops walking. The other captain stops, too, and lifts both eyebrows at him.

“Listen,” Woojin crosses his arms. “Thanks for… everything you’ve done for me this weekend. I’m grateful. I really am.”

“No prob.”

“But this doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends now.” Woojin says firmly.

“It doesn’t?” Chan looks more amused than anything else. Woojin has a very strong desire to punch him in the face again. _For old time’s sake._

“No. It doesn’t.”

“So we’re back to being rivals?” Chan asks. His lip quivers, like he’s desperately trying not to laugh.  

“I’m sorry, but in _no_ way are you anywhere _near_ being _my_ rival.” Woojin snorts in spite of himself.

“We’ll see about that next next week.” Chan grins.

“What?”

“Prelims. You guys are our first match.”

“Oh.” Woojin hadn’t really forgotten, it’s not like he _could_ have forgotten that Coach Park had bumped him down to Team B, and that he wouldn’t even be playing the Weevils when the season opens in two weeks. He’d just been thinking about other things, like how bold Chan is to assume that they could ever, _ever_ be on the same level.

The sting is still there, like a papercut reminding you that it’s there every time you wash your hands. “I won’t be playing.”

Chan’s face falls. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s none of your business.” Woojin starts walking again, blinking hard to keep himself from doing something _really_ dumb, like crying in front of this near stranger. “We’re not even friends.”

“Woojin-”

“And shouldn’t you be happy? Now your garbage fire of a team has a chance of actually getting _some_ points in with me gone.” Woojin says, immediately regretting it, but by the time he finds that he wants to apologize, the moment’s gone.

Chan’s expression is cold. “Maybe Coach Park’s right. Maybe you _don’t_ deserve to be on Team A after all.”

It takes Woojin a whole second to realize what Chan had just said to him. He sees Chan’s expression change for a second, but he doesn’t stick around for the other captain’s inevitable flood of apologies. Woojin spins on one heel and starts storming back towards the camp. _I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry…_

“And you can forget getting a lift home from us!” Chan calls after him. “Not that you’d wanna spend three hours stuck with _garbage_ -”

“I don’t care! I don’t need your help! Jeongin’s parents are giving me a ride home!” Woojin shouts back, but his voice cracks. He spins around and starts walking faster. There’s no way he’s letting Chan get to him enough to make him _cry_. And there’s no way in _hell_ that Woojin would ever let Chan see that. He’s embarrassed himself enough around the other captain.

 

“Thanks again for putting up with all our bullshit, Mark.” Jinyoung says, clapping the coordinator on the back. The kitten cradled in Mark’s arm meows loudly, as if to say, _Don’t fucking shake the human who’s carrying me, you dumb bitch, I could’ve_ fallen.

“Anytime,” The camp coordinator says, before frowning at himself and saying, “On second thought, never come back here. Ever. I’ll see to it you guys are all banned.”

“Are you going to keep the kittens?”

Mark and Jinyoung turn to find Jinyoung’s younger brother hesitating by the door to the Weevils’ minibus, clutching the straps of his backpack so firmly that his knuckles are white.

Jinyoung nudges Mark gently with his elbow.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about them. I’ve got the space.” Mark groans. “Besides, they’ll keep the rats away.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you so much!” Jinyoung’s brother hugs Mark so quickly and suddenly that Mark doesn’t have the time to jerk away. The younger boy pets the yellow kitten in Mark’s arms, whispers something unintelligible to it, then hops happily onto the minibus.

Jinyoung nudges Mark again, this time hard enough to bruise on Mark’s ribs.

“Ow, what the _fuck_!” Mark hisses at him.

“You’re lucky my brother’s a dumbass city kid and doesn’t know there aren’t any rats out here.”

“I really _am_ gonna keep them, asshole.” Mark rolls his eyes. “It gets pretty lonely out here.”

Jinyoung watches minibus shudder on its wheels from the boys jumping and screaming inside like caged baboons. “I could use a little more _lonely_.”

“What _ever_ , Jinyoung,” Mark laughs. “You love them.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Jinyoung says affectionately. He leans into the open doorway and screams, “CAPTAIN! IS EVERYONE HERE?”

“YES SIR!” Chan shouts back, under all the noise from the other boys who are most _definitely_ there and not letting Jinyoung forget it for one second.

Jinyoung heaves a long sigh and salutes Mark quickly. “See you around, Mark.”

“See ya,” Mark holds up one of the kitten’s paws to wave goodbye. “Go smash Coach Park’s team into the dirt for me, would you?”

“That’s the plan, dude.” Jinyoung waves before closing the minibus’ door. He looks back at his team to find Felix and Jisung trying to bodysurf over the heads of their cheering teammates, racing each other to the front of the minibus while Chan keeps the time.

Jinyoung catches himself smiling at them. Then he shakes his head like he’s trying to get water out of his ears. _The fuck is wrong with you, Jinyoung?_

“EVERYBODY SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND PUT ON YOUR SEATBELTS UNLESS YOU WANNA MAKE OUT WITH THE WINDSHIELD EVERY TIME I HIT THE BRAKES!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The past 9 chapters or so have been just one weekend I’m cackling kkjbkv
> 
> anyway i'm gonna keep up this biweekly (ish) updating schedule for a while, and i'm sorry i can't reply to everyone's comments and stuff but I APPRECIATE THE HELL OUT OF THEM thank you so much for enjoying this fic even half as much as i did writing it 💕💕💕✌
> 
> BY THE WAY, JEONGIN'S PARENTS ARE NCT JUNGWOO IN DRAG AND JAEHYUN WAHAHHSCKDAk im really promoting the 🤙het agenda🤙  
> 


	19. “WHO’S GONNA EAT DIRT TODAY?” – Bang Chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know how every year, I say, _Let’s go out there and have fun no matter what the score turns out._ ” Chan says.
> 
> The boys all nod, suddenly remembering the past couple of seasons they’d been around for.
> 
> “Yeah.”  
> “Right.”  
> “How could we forget?”  
> “Classic.”
> 
> “Well, today we’re changing that.” Chan says, and his teammates look like he’d just told them that he’s going to quit the team. “Today our thing is, _Let’s go out there and have fun pounding the S----- High Bears’ smug little faces into the fucking dirt._ ”  
> Their coach, who’d already been pale to begin with, blanches a few more shades. He looks like a paper cutout as he squeaks out, “W- What?”

_Two weeks later_

“Chan! Wake up!”

Chan hears his mother’s muffled voice like it’s far away. He hears his bedroom door open.

“Chan! You might be late for your game!”

Chan smiles.

“Chan?”

“I’m in the kitchen, Mama!” Chan twists the lid of his one-gallon water jug closed, moving it next to the seven lunches he’s packed. His mother’s footsteps pad down the hallway. She bursts into the kitchen, frowning.

“What on earth-”

“Morning, Mama.” Chan kisses him mom on the cheek. “I made lunch for everyone.”

His mother folds her arms, putting on a cross look. “And what about breakfast?”

“Oh, that one’s on you,” Chan laughs.

His mother laughs and slaps him on the arm. “Go wake up your siblings. How many eggs do you want?”

“Two please!” Chan shouts as he runs back up the hallway. He nearly bumps into his dad, who’s scratching his butt while he lumbers to the bathroom, half-asleep. “Morning, Dad!”

“Mahhrngng Chahrhr,” Chan’s dad groans, bumping into a wall that’s almost completely covered in family photos.

“Come on, guys,” Chan throws his bedroom door open with a bang. “Wakey wakey!”

Three small figures scattered on the two bunk beds in the room roll over with grumpy noises while a fourth stays facedown on Chan’s bed, snoring away happily.

“Come on!” Chan says, tickling a pair of exposed feet. “Big bro has a game today!”

“What time is it?” Chan’s disgruntled ten-year-old sister reaches for the phone on the bedside table (Chan’s).

“Nearly seven.” Chan says, while trying to untangle his five-year-old brother from the blankets. He reaches over to shake his eight-year-old sister, who’s still facedown on Chan’s pillow. She must’ve been awake enough to climb down from her bed and into Chan’s, but she doesn’t seem to be responding now.

Chan’s just scooped his two-year-old brother up when their mom leans into the bedroom door. “Everybody up! Your brother can _not_ be late! He is the _captain_! Our entire family will be embarrassed if we’re even a _second_ late!”

 

Chan and his family arrive at the field fifteen minutes late.

“Jesus, I thought you weren’t coming at all.” His coach says, almost crumpling to his knees when Chan arrives.

“Sorry, Coach, it won’t happen again.” Chan says, though he knows full well that it _will_ happen again, so long as his parents insist on bringing the whole family along to every game.

“Go warm up.” The coach says waving Chan in the general direction of the Weevils, who are stretching in uncharacteristic silence.

It feels weird to be playing their first game in the field that the Bears had bullied them out of, and against the Bears on top of all that. But Chan knows that’s not what’s bothering them. The past few weeks have been weird for the Weevils on the whole. They’ve started to play like an actual baseball team, and the idea that they might have even a fighting chance against some of the other teams – not the Bears, of course – the _idea_ of it is scaring them.

“Hey Cap, your _buddy_ isn’t here, is he?” Changbin asks, earning a sharp jab from Hyunjin’s elbow. “Ow! Fuck!”

Chan looks over at the Bears, neatly huddled around their dugout, probably already warmed up before Chan’s family had even left their house. He recognizes a few of them now: The one who’d tackled Coach Park to the ground, the catcher who seems incapable of saying anything nice, the three suckers that Jisung had scammed… But their captain was nowhere to be seen. _He’s not the kind of guy you can miss._ Chan thinks as he stretches his legs. _He’s really not there._

“He got demoted to Team B, dumbass, he’s really not gonna be there.” Jisung hisses at Changbin, but Chan’s the one who feels like a dumbass.

The Bears’ coach catches Chan looking their way and frowns at him. Chan looks at the ground and carries on stretching anxiously. _You don’t have any reason to be afraid of him, Chan._

_Am I afraid of him or just really, really pissed off?_

Before Chan can decide how he’s feeling, their coach rounds them up.

“Okay, I managed to convince them not to dock a point for starting late, but you guys are going to have to work your asses off to get the ump to call _anything_ in our favor at this rate, the guy is super pissed off-”

“Hyung.” Hyunjin says, calmly laying a hand on his brother’s arm.

The coach stuffs his trembling hands self-consciously into his pockets. “Anyway, yeah, um, we’re batting first, you guys know the lineup, I’m not going to accept any criticism on that, just suck it up and-”

“Coach,” Chan says forcing a supportive smile on. “Could I say something?”

“Y- Yeah, sure, of course, fire away, Captain.”

“Okay, guys,” Chan motions with his hands for the other boys to huddle a bit closer together, like penguins on thin ice. “You know what I say every season, right?”

“Um, nope.” Felix raises his hand. “I’m new.”

“Oh. Right.” Chan’s face reddens for a moment, then he pulls everyone back into a tight huddle. “Anyway, every year I say the same thing. And what is it, Changbin?”

“Tear them to shreds?” Changbin suggests.

“Not exactly.” Chan grimaces. “It’s more of, _Let’s go out there and have fun no matter what the score turns out_.”

The boys all nod, suddenly remembering the past couple of seasons they’d been around for.

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“How could we forget?”

“Classic.”

“Well, today we’re changing that.” Chan says, and his teammates look like he’d just told them that he’s going to quit the team. “Today our thing is, _Let’s go out there and have fun pounding the S----- High Bears’ smug little faces into the fucking dirt._ ”

Their coach, who’d already been pale to begin with, blanches a few more shades. He looks like a paper cutout as he squeaks out, “W- What?”

“WHO’S GONNA EAT DIRT TODAY?” Chan shouts.

“THEM!” “THE BEARS!” “THOSE PRICKS!”

“WHO’S GONNA FEED IT TO THEM?” Changbin yells.

“WE ARE!” “THE WEEVILS!” “US!”

“AND WHOOOOO’S GONNA WIN?” Jisung screams.

“WE WILL!” “THE WEEVILS!” “US!”

The Weevils’ coach staggers back a few steps to sit at the dugout. “What have I done.”

 

_Relax, Jeongin. Calm the fuck down._

Jeongin doesn’t know why, but he’s hearing Woojin’s voice in his head, like the guy’s his dead uncle or something. Jeongin shuts his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, ignoring his mom and dad sitting on the bleachers, proudly watching him pitch at his first baseball game of his high school career, _no pressure_ or anything –

Jeongin opens his eyes to find the umpire motioning agitatedly for him to throw the freaking ball.

He winds up and lets the ball go without thinking.

Unsurprisingly, the ball curves clean over the batter’s head. “BALL!”

_Why does this umpire have to be so_ loud _?_

Jeongin takes a deep breath and winds up again. He lets the ball go, and this time it doesn’t fly over the batter’s head, it flies straight for it. Luckily, the Weevil on the plate seems to have a little bit of sense – or just plain old reflexes – so he backs off before he can get brained by a baseball.

“BALL!” The umpire shouts, for the eighth time this first inning alone. “WALK!”

Jeongin chews on his bottom lip as he watches the batter calmly drop the bat and trot over to first base. Their previous batter jogs over to second, behind Jeongin, and the first batter is now at third.

Jeongin’s starting to sweat through to his cap. _You’re really messing this up, Jeongin._

“The ball goes to me!” Minho barks from where he’s squatting behind the plate. “No matter what the _fuck_ happens! BALL! GOES! TO! ME!”

“Y- You heard him!” Jeongin shouts, feeling the need to say something. _You’re not replacing the captain, genius, you’re just replacing the pitcher._

But when Jeongin pitches another ball way too high, the fifth in a row, he realizes that can’t replace their pitcher. He’s a freshman, for god’s sake. _Coach Park is insane for letting me pitch this game, even if it is against the_ Weevils.

Jeongin pitches another ball, this time below the knees of the batter.

“YANG JEONGIN!” Minho squawks frantically, giving up on all the signals and signs they’d practiced the week before. “COME ON!”

But when Jeongin looks at their coach’s direction, the man doesn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat. He’s just serenely staring out at the field while the Bears’ parents behind him are shouting at the coach to take Jeongin off the field.

Jeongin looks back at the batter, determined to shut everyone else out. Then his heart gets caught in his throat when he sees the face under the helmet.

_“He’s pretty much the only guy on that team who can play even remotely well,”_ Woojin had said during that very first match they’d played against the Weevils. He’d been talking about the Weevils’ captain of course, and who else would their coach put up fourth to bat?

Jeongin gulps.

Then the Weevils’ captain looks him in the eye and smiles. It’s not a cruel smile, it’s not the kind of _I’m-playing-mind-games-with-you_ smile, it’s a genuine, friendly smile. The captain even takes one hand off the bat to give Jeongin a thumbs up.

Jeongin frowns. _What the hell is he doing?_

“JEONGIN!” Minho screeches, before making a complicated hand gesture.

Jeongin nods, not entirely sure what Minho had meant, but he gets winds up and hopes that Minho’s ready to catch whatever it is Jeongin comes up with.

“STRIKE!”

Jeongin can hardly believe his ears, much less his eyes, when the ball smacks into Minho’s glove just as the Weevils’ captain swings just a bit too late.

“Good job!” The Weevils’ captain gives him another thumbs up.

Jeongin, confused as he is, winds up and lets another pitch go.

“STRRRIKE!”

“Nice one!”

Jeongin is getting dizzy. This is definitely a mind game. The guy is _good_.

Minho’s making some other gesture. It looks a little rude, whatever it means.

“You can do it!” The Weevils’ captain shouts in Jeongin’s direction.

“Dude what the hell!” The Weevil on third base shouts back.

Jeongin realizes he’s got the bases loaded. He can’t mess this one up. He doubts the Weevils will ever get a home run, but they might be able to squeeze in a point of more out of this if he messes up.

Jeongin takes a deep breath. _Channel your inner Woojin._

He feels his blood settle down, like his body becomes lighter, like he’s seriously being _possessed_ as he swings his arm and releases the ball.

The ball cuts through the air, curving downward slightly as it barrels towards Minho’s waiting glove.

Then something cuts it off mid-flight, slamming into it with a resounding metallic twang.

_Shit._ Jeongin seems frozen in place as the ball sails backward over his head.

“HERE! HERE!” Minho screams as the Weevil on third base dashes towards him, arms flailing. “NOT YOU!”

Seungmin runs after the ball, but it bangs into the fence before he can catch it. He manages to pick it up off the ground and throw it over to Jeongin.

Jeongin catches it on reflex, and still without thinking, passes it on to Minho. But by that time, one of the Weevils had already made it to the home plate. The second, third, and fourth (their captain) seem to be stuck somewhere between second and third, with the captain trying to control their little crowd by gently pushing his teammates back to the bases.

_Oh no you don’t,_ Jeongin’s inner Woojin says. “Minho!”

Jeongin catches the ball and taps two of the confused Weevils out, and he’s almost got their captain, too, but the captain had outrun Jeongin and settled at second base.

Jeongin jogs back to the mound, heaving a sigh of relief knowing that he only has to strike one more Weevil out before he can get out of this awful position. For this inning.

Jeongin’s shoulders sag a little at the thought of having to survive an _entire_ game as pitcher.

“Let’s go, Hyunjin!” The Weevils’ captain cheers from behind Jeongin as one of the taller Weevils steps up to bat.

Jeongin takes a deep breath. _Come on, inner Woojin, help me out again._

 

Hyunjin won’t meet his brother’s eyes when he walks back to the dugout after striking out. His brother doesn’t try to meet his, but the silence between them as Hyunjin passes by says everything Hyunjin’s brother means to say: _What the fuck was that?_

“They’re going to try to get back that point we got.” Hyunjin’s brother says.

“Oh, right, good job, Jisung,” Chan claps Jisung on the back. The other boys follow suit.

“Nice one,” Hyunjin mutters, patting Jisung on the arm once.

Hyunjin’s brother doesn’t let them celebrate for more than a second. “All right, you guys are going to have to keep your eyes and ears open, I want everyone on the field _paying attention._ ”

“Just like we practiced.” Chan adds.

“Just like we practiced.” Hyunjin’s brother echoes quickly.

Then he looks at Hyunjin for a split second before looking away. “Chan, are you up to pitching today?”

Chan rubs his arm thoughtfully. Hyunjin knows there’s this huge ugly bruise on it, because Chan had made the mistake of wearing short sleeves to practice a few days earlier, but nobody knows where it’s from. Well, Hyunjin doesn’t at least.

But he _does_ know that Chan’s form’s been suffering because of it.

“I can do it, Coach.” Chan says, though his frown says otherwise.

Hyunjin opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. So he purses his lips together, nodding placidly when his brother hands him the catcher’s gear.

“You got this?” It’s more of a statement with the way his brother says it.

“I got this.” Hyunjin says, though it’s more of an apology.

 

Hyunjin knows he’s doing a pretty decent job at catching, but Chan’s murdering it on the mound, in a bad way. Hyunjin’s much closer to the bleachers, so he can hear Chan’s little brothers and sisters gasp every time Chan’s pitches don’t quite make it to where they’re supposed to be, and though he’s been listening to that every game for the past two years, he just can’t stand it now.

Hyunjin has to kneel on one knee to reach for one of Chan’s more wayward pitches.

“BALL!” The umpire shouts, like he’s having a lot of fun calling it out.

_He needs to loosen his arm up,_ Hyunjin thinks as he settles back into his squat for another pitch. _And he keeps releasing the ball too late._

“WALK!”

_This is why you shouldn’t leave this to Chan. You could do it._ Hyunjin kneels to reach for the ball to throw it back to Chan, who’s looking visibly worn out. They’ve given up two points to the Bears, and it’s only the bottom half of the first inning.

“STRIKE!”

Hyunjin supposes he could do better than Chan – Chan doesn’t have an older brother who’s been teaching him to pitch since kindergarten – but it’s that nagging feeling that Hyunjin might _not_ do better than Chan that keeps him from even offering to take over.

“STRIKE!”

_No, it’s not that,_ Hyunjin admits to himself. _I know I’m better than Chan, and that’s not just me being an asshole._

_It’s got nothing to do with Chan at all._

“OUT!”

_Maybe I thought too soon. Maybe Chan just needs a bit of time to warm up._

 

Woojin had planned to sleep in. It’s a Sunday morning, he had nothing planned, and besides, being awake during the game but not _actually_ being part of it would be torture, right? So he’d planned to stay up late Saturday evening and sleep till around noon on Sunday, blissfully missing everything.

But his body clock was still pumped for the season. It hadn’t gotten the memo that Woojin wasn’t going to be playing this season, so it had jolted him awake at 6:30 in the morning, sharp.

Woojin sits up in in bed for the next two hours, unable to fall back to sleep.

His phone dings from his bedside table. _Should I check it?_

He’s not sure just then, what he wants to happen. _Do I want them to lose? So I can feel better about myself? Would that even make me feel better about myself?_

Woojin reaches for his phone and finds a message from Minho. _It’s so very_ Minho _to be texting in the middle of a game._

**Lee Minho:** YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

Woojin frowns at it, but that’s the end of the message. _Are they winning? Did something bad happen?_

_How is Jeongin doing?_ Woojin has half a mind to get up, get dressed, and see how the game is going. He has every reason to go: He’s still a student of S----- High, and his family owns the entire ballpark, and the other members of Team B said they would be watching anyway.

But the idea of seeing the smug look on Coach Park’s face is enough to make Woojin turn his phone over and duck back under the covers.

His phone bleeps again, but he doesn’t reach for it. He’d rather not know.


	20. “SHAWTY HAD THEM APPLE BOTTOM JEANS” pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened?” Felix shouts to Changbin on second. 
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “What happened? Did we win?” Felix shouts, but Changbin suddenly starts jumping and screaming. 
> 
> “We won?” Felix starts hopping around too, even if he isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. “Did we win?”
> 
> He runs towards the growing group hug of sweaty, disoriented Weevils in the middle of the field.
> 
> “What’s going on!” Felix shouts, hugging his teammates anyway and jumping along with them. “Did we win?”

Jeongin is sweating through his shirt. He’s starting to feel like a swimmer with how wet his clothes are getting, but the sun’s not even that high in the sky yet, and it’s a pretty mild day.

Mild here being a relative term. Jeongin is having an awful day. He’s hoping that he’ll carry on melting into a giant puddle on the pitcher’s mound rather than him having to live with the fact that the Weevils – the _worst_ team in the entire league – are currently behind by just one point, and it’s the top of the last inning.

_Sorry, Captain, I really let you down._

“You can do it, Jeongin!” The Weevil currently at bat shouts.

Jeongin squints. It’s Felix, the guy who shared his Switch with Jeongin. _He’s a great guy._

_But he’s the enemy today,_ Jeongin reminds himself as he gets ready for another pitch.

“STRIKE!”

Jeongin feels a little bad as he winds up for another pitch that he knows is going right at the corner of the box.

“STRIKE!”

He feels terrible at the way Felix’s hands are shaking as Jeongin lets loose a third pitch. _I’m sorry I’m getting the hang of this._

“OUT!”

“Nice, Jeongin!” Felix shouts as he walks off the field.

_Don’t let their mind games get to you,_ Jeongin reminds himself. He shakes his head and gets ready for the next Weevil, the noisy one who scams people.

“STRIKE!”

_Come on, inner Woojin…_

“STRIKE!”

Jeongin clenches his jaw as he lets another pitch loose, aiming as low as he can.

“BALL!”

_Okay, too low. Come on, inner Woojin, pull through…_

“OUT!”

Jeongin’s mother whoops demurely above the crowd supporting the Bears, but Jeongin hears it. And he smiles. He’s only playing baseball because she wanted him to in the first place. Not that he doesn’t like the sport, he just probably would’ve ended up in another one if it hadn’t been for his mom’s unusual _insistence_ on baseball. He’s sure there’s a backstory there waiting to be flashbacked – _flashed back?_ – to, but he doesn’t know how to even begin asking her about that.

“BALL!”

_Too low, Jeongin, pull higher._

“BALL!”

_Dammit._ Jeongin’s grinding his teeth again, which he knows his dentist is going to give him an earful for, but he’s having a hard time concentrating again.

“BALL!”

_HIGHER JEONGIN, HIGHER!_

“WALK!”

_Dammit._ Jeongin stops to crack his neck and wrists before stepping back onto the mound. _It’s okay, just one guy on first, not a big deal yet, just take it easy…_

_That’s what you said last time, and now they’re only down by_ one _._

_Dammit, inner me, whose side are you on???_

Jeongin watches the Weevils’ captain step up to bat. He’s been responsible for half of the Weevils’ points, and it seems like he’s the only one who doesn’t get by on pure luck, or maybe he just has more luck than everyone else. Whatever the case is, he makes Jeongin’s hands sweaty.

“Let’s go Jeongin!” The Weevils’ captain cheers.

“Ignore him!” Minho barks from behind him.

Jeongin chooses to ignore them _both_. He takes a breath, winds up, and releases what he hopes to be a low enough pitch that the Weevils’ captain misses it.

 

_This kid is too predictable,_ Chan thinks sadly as he swings the bat in a little scoop, sending the ball flying up, up, and away. _He needs to learn more tricks._

 

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!” Minho throws his mask onto the ground when the ball flies over the fence. The Weevil at first breaks into a faster run then, like a complete fucking idiot because it doesn’t fucking matter anymore.

Minho can only watch with a bitter scowl when that Weevil dances over the home plate, followed closely by their captain.

 

“OH MY GOD I COULD KISS YOU BOTH RIGHT NOW!” Jisung screams when Chan and Changbin jog back to the dugout. The rest of the team cut in before he can do anything, forming an ugly, sweaty group hug around the two.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!” Felix screams from under someone’s armpit.

“EVERYBODY!” Changbin yells, getting the entire mass of Weevils jumping like they’re at a club. “SHAWTY HAD THEM APPLE BOTTOM JEANS!”

“JEANS!” Jisung echoes.

“BOOTS WITH THE FUR!”

“WITH THE FUR!” Jisung jumps two feet in the air.

“GOT THE WHOLE CLUB-”

They’re cut off by a shrill screeching noise. They turn to find their coach blowing his whistle so hard that his face looks like a little tomato. “Game’s not over yet!” Their coach manages to shout, though he’s out of breath.

 

Jinyoung’s been picking at a hangnail for the whole game, and he’s not surprised when he looks down to find the side of his thumb bleeding. Jisung had managed to get in another point mostly from stealing bases and distracting the Bears’ catcher somehow – Jinyoung was glad that Jisung’s innate talent for conning people came in handy during games, but he was going to have to sit the kid down and talk to him about game etiquette sometime. _No, let that be someone else’s problem. At least we’ve got the point._

The two-point lead is still too narrow a lead to guarantee them anything, not when the Bears have yet to bat and their main hitters are up next.

  _What the hell are you thinking, Jinyoung? It’s a miracle your team even has any_ points _. You weren’t even expecting a single run from them, much less fourteen._

Jinyoung sighs as his brother starts putting on the catcher’s gear. He knows that Hyunjin could easily close the game, especially because the Bears are probably at their sloppiest right now and aren’t expecting someone as good as Hyunjin. But he also knows that forcing Hyunjin to step up just so they can get one win would be a dick move, and no win is really worth Jinyoung’s brother hating him forever.

_Why doesn’t he want to pitch anyway? It’s not like he’s got anything to worry about. He’s pretty fucking good at it._ Jinyoung sighs as his boys walk onto the field, singing that Shrek song out of key and out of time with each other.

He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “YOU CAN DO IT, BOYS!”

Though he seriously doubts that.

 

“You,” Coach Park says, looking in Seungmin’s direction. “If you don’t make it to first, you’re off Team A.”

Assistant Coach Yoo frowns. “Coach…”

“Did I say something wrong?” Coach Park crosses his massive arms. “Go.” He says to Seungmin, who picks up the helmet gingerly.

_Judging by the bulging green vein on Coach Park’s neck, this is the worst game the Bears have ever played in… ever._

Seungmin slides the helmet on and shifts the bat in his hands. He’s not played this badly since his T-ball days, but everything seems off without their captain around. Sure, they’re the best junior team in the country, and they shouldn’t be hanging on a single member – _What kind of a team would that be_? He turns his helmet a little. _Is it one backwards? That would be_ really _embarrassing._

Seungmin adjusts his helmet again. Like the whole match, it just doesn’t seem to fit right. _This_ is _the right size, isn’t it? The black ones are my size, right?_

Then the Weevils’ catcher smiles at him, and Seungmin’s mind clears. More accurately, his mind goes blank. A cheerful sort of blank, like when you look directly at the sun and can’t see anything else for some time afterwards.

Seungmin waggles his butt a little as he lifts the bat.

The Weevils’ pitcher looks tired as he squints in Seungmin’s direction. _Get this over with,_ his eyes seem to say.

_Then help me out,_ Seungmin squints back. _Throw me an easy one._

The Weevils’ pitcher seems to _sigh_ as he winds up for a pitch. Then he throws the ball like he’s just tossing it into the trash. Seungmin watches it fall aimlessly, too far to the right.

“BALL!”

Seungmin lifts the bat again. _Come on, old guy, make it easy._

The Weevils’ pitcher’s eyebrows seem to be meeting in the middle from how hard he’s concentrating.

_Come on…_

“BALL!”

Seungmin and the pitcher both seem to be frustrated. _Well, if he makes two more bad throws, then I_ will _get to first and Coach Park won’t kick me off the team._

Seungmin glances back at the coach, whose jaw is clenched so tightly that it looks hewn from steel. _Like a Transformer._ Seungmin chuckles to himself as he lifts the bat again.

“STRIKE!”

“Swing a little earlier,” Hyunjin murmurs as he throws the ball back to their pitcher.

“I _know_.” Seungmin murmurs back, lifting the bat again.

He watches the Weevils’ captain closely, then swings before he can even think about it.

 

“Your hand’s bleeding.”

Jinyoung turns to find the Bears’ assistant coach standing next to him, chewing her gum lazily. “I know.” He says as he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Just thought you might wanna do something about it,” Assistant Coach Yoo shrugs.

Jinyoung looks back at the game. Chan’s been pitching slightly better, but it’s the halfway sort of _slightly better_ where he’s made it easy for the Bears to figure it out. There’s one Bear on third, one on first, one that Chan had managed to strike out, and one that Jisung had managed to tap out. _It’s not so bad._

The assistant coach next to him lets out a long groan that sounds like the way Jinyoung’s feeling. Jinyoung frowns at her.

“Aren’t you needed over there?” He nods at the Bears’ dugout, which isn’t looking like the happiest place to be right now. Coach Park looks and sounds ready to pop an artery. Jinyoung lowkey hopes he does.

“Nope.” Assistant Coach Yoo pushes her gum to one cheek to yawn. “This is the worst game I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not _so_ lopsided,” Jinyoung says, though he’s not sure why he’s being so defensive.

“That’s what makes it bad.” Assistant Coach Yoo sighs.

Minho swats the ball like a bug, sending it flying towards Felix in the outfield. The Weevils fall into a mad scramble to get the ball back to Hyunjin to tap Seungmin out, but it doesn’t get there in time. They manage to stop the other Bear from getting any further, though. Chan chases after him to tap him out, and the umpire blows his whistle.

 

Felix frowns at the noise from the bleachers. The only thing about being in the outfield is that everything seems to get to him later, like everyone infield is texting each other and he’s sitting there waiting for snail mail.

“What happened?” Felix shouts to Changbin on second.

“What?”

“What happened? Did we win?” Felix shouts, but Changbin suddenly starts jumping and screaming.

“We won?” Felix starts hopping around too, even if he isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. “Did we win?”

He runs towards the growing group hug of sweaty, disoriented Weevils in the middle of the field.

“What’s going on!” Felix shouts, hugging his teammates anyway and jumping along with them. “Did we win?”

“No!” Chan shouts back through tears. “But we _didn’t lose_!”

Felix frowns for a moment. “What?”

“DRAAAAAAAAAAAAW!”

Their coach cuts into the group hug with his arms, blowing his whistle with all the lung power he has. He spits out the whistle when he’s got their attention and shouts, “GAME’S NOT OVER YET!”

 

Hyunjin stands some distance behind the others. He knows it’s a team huddle, but he’s just not a huddling type of person. He’s not a _people_ person.

The Bears’ coach is shouting his head off at them in the other dugout while the Bears’ parents shout at him, but the Weevils’ dugout is much calmer.

“Good job, everyone,” Hyunjin’s brother says, one arm around Chan’s shoulders and one around Jisung’s. The two guys look like their knees are going to give way any minute.

_Well, they’ve been playing the hardest._ Hyunjin figures their points up till this point are split evenly between Jisung and the captain. _Meanwhile I…_

Hyunjin’s brother rubs Chan’s arm gently. “You guys have made me really proud-”

“Aw, don’t cry, Coach.” Jisung says.

“As if _you_ kids could make me cry.” Jinyoung flicks him with a finger. “Listen, I know you’ve all done your best, so whatever happens next is immaterial.”

“Oof.” Felix shakes his head in awe. “That was deep, Coach.”

Hyunjin’s brother rolls his eyes. “Can I finish?”

Felix lowers his head and steps back as far out as Hyunjin. “YesCoachsorry.”

“We’ve got one problem, though.” Hyunjin’s brother looks at him then, and Hyunjin looks away. He already knows what he’s gonna say. “Chan needs to take a break.”

Of course no one looks in his direction but his brother, who’s giving Hyunjin this desperate, pleading look.

“I can still go, Coach, it’s okay,” Chan insists, noticing the strange way their coach is looking at Hyunjin.

“No, you’re not conditioned to go past nine innings.” Hyunjin’s brother says. “If you hurt yourself now, you might not be able to play next Sunday.”

Chan closes his mouth into a pout. _He’s right. There’s nothing to argue with there._

“I can do it.” Jisung offers.

“No you can’t.” Changbin screws up his face.

“Eat shit, Changbin.” Jisung lifts a hand to punch him, then reconsiders it. “I could… probably.”

“Not you, you also need to take it easy,” Jinyoung flicking Jisung again. “I need someone else to pitch. We’ll just rearrange your positions for now.”

Changbin frowns. “But I thought our positions were permanent.”

“Nothing is permanent.” Hyunjin’s brother sighs, looking up at the sky for a moment. “Come on, guys, someone take one for the team so your captain can rest.”

When no one volunteers, Chan insists, “I can still do it, Coach, I’m fine.”

“No, Chan, you’re not pitching anymore, and that’s final.” Jinyoung says tensely. Then he loosens up and says, “Listen, it’s okay if we don’t win.”

He’d been talking to the entire team when he said that, but he’d been looking right at Hyunjin, who was hovering around the back.

“We’ve already done so much better than we did before,” Jinyoung says, still looking at Hyunjin. “We don’t need to win.”

Hyunjin knows his brother is just waiting for him to say something. _But what if I don’t? What happens then?_

“I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for spamming chapters like this, but it seems like i've taken the Slow Burn tag a little too seriously avbdkjasldvkj this fic is gonna be VERY long
> 
> would you guys rather that i just drop 5 chapters every week or 2 chapters every 3 days?


	21. Lunch of Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The other parents want to kick Coach Park out,” Jeongin’s mom sighs. 
> 
> “What for?” Jeongin’s dad frowns. 
> 
> “Because we lost.” Jeongin says, feeling the rice in his stomach turning. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but remembering losing to the Weevils makes him feel a little bit sick. “For the first time in _years_.”
> 
> “Everyone loses,” Jeongin’s mom rolls her eyes dramatically. “That’s how it works.”

Woojin walks downstairs for a snack, since he’d missed breakfast by a long shot. He’s confused to find the household staff running around frantically carrying fine china and silverware and one even carrying an entire vase.

“What’s going on?” He asks the head of household staff when he catches him arranging things on the dining table in a panic.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m a bit busy, I’ll help you later.” The head of staff replies, running off in a hurry while speaking anxiously into his walkie talkie.

Woojin looks down at the dining table. He freezes when he sees three settings. _Three settings? But it’s just supposed to be me and Mom??? Who could possibly…_

He rushes to the tearoom to find his mother, who’s usually got some friends over at this time, but she’s not there. He checks the library, on the off chance that she’d gone there to do some online shopping, but she’s not there, either. When he doesn’t find her in the gym or the pool, he goes back upstairs to get his phone form his room and just fucking call her to know what’s going on.

“Woojin!” His mother gasps when he nearly barrels into her in the hallway. “Why are you still in your pajamas, dear?”

Woojin frowns at the dress she’s got on. It’s nicer than her usual house dresses. “Who’s coming for lunch, Mom?”

“Oh, it’s your father.” Woojin’s mom shrugs. “He’s taking the rest of the day off from work to spend time with us. Oh close your mouth, dear, it’s not cute.”

Woojin shuts his mouth, still perplexed. _Taking the day off from work to spend time with us?_ That doesn’t sound like his father at all.

 

“You didn’t take a bath?” Is how Woojin’s father greets him when he enters the dining room half an hour later.

Woojin runs a hand self-consciously through his dry hair. _Shit._ “Uh…nope.”

His father frowns. “What did I tell you about-”

“Hello, Chairman, dear,” Woojin’s mom stands on her tiptoes to peck Woojin’s father on the cheek.

“Hello.” Woojin’s father says gruffly before turning back to Woojin. “What the hell happened today?”

When Woojin says nothing, his mother asks, “Why? What happened?”

“The other parents are holding a vote to have Coach Park replaced.” Woojin’s father says, picking up one of his phones, which is buzzing with some notification or the other.

“Coach Park? _Replaced_?” Woojin’s mother gasps. “But _why_?”

“Because they just lost to the worst team in the entire league!” Woojin’s father barks, angrily typing a reply to some message. He doesn’t look up from his phone to ask Woojin, “What the hell were you doing? You know how important this season is for you! I’ve already called in all the favors I could, but you have to do your part!”

Woojin sits there, staring down at the soup one of the waitstaff had lowered in front of him with trembling hands.

“But, _Chairman-dear_ ,” Woojin’s mother says, stringing the title with the pet name in an affectionate mess that Woojin could never understand. “Woojin didn’t have a game today.”

_Mom, why…_ Woojin takes a breath, waiting for the inevitable eruption of Mount Chairman Kim.

It starts with his father putting down all of his phones for once, and looking directly at Woojin. His phones buzz and bleep for his attention, but for just this moment, he doesn’t care. His father’s face, which is just an older and more tired reflection of Woojin’s, starts to get blotchy and red.

And then he starts shouting.

“WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ HE DIDN’T HAVE A GAME TODAY?”

“I didn’t go, Father.”

“AND WHY _NOT_?”

“Because I…” Woojin knows by now to cut his losses. “I’m not Team A anymore.”

 

“At least change your shirt before we have lunch,” Chan’s mom says, reaching into her massive purse to toss Chan a fresh T-shirt.

“Lunch of champions,” Chan’s dad chuckles, clapping him on the arm, the _sore_ arm. _It’s not his fault he doesn’t know,_ Chan thinks as he rubs his sore arm.

There’s a long and awkward silence – as silent as things can get with his younger siblings – where everyone’s just staring at him, and he’s just holding the new T-shirt.

“I’ll just go…” Chan says taking a few steps away from the car. “Find the locker room-”

“Forget the locker room, just change here. It doesn’t matter.” Chan’s mom waves a hand dismissively around the empty parking lot. “Besides, everyone else has left already, we’re the only ones who will see you.”

“Come on, honey, maybe he doesn’t want his _entire_ family watching him change,” Chan’s dad says, turning Chan’s younger brothers and sisters around to face the nearby trees.

“He walks around in his underwear in front of us _all the time_ at home-”

“ _Mom!_ ”

“It’s just a shirt!” Chan’s mom grumbles. “Get changed now so we can eat!”

Chan sucks on the inside of his cheek as he pulls his jersey over his head, followed by his sweaty inside shirt. He can’t see his family, because he’s still trying to pull the shirt over his head, but they’ve all gone strangely silent.

He pulls on the new shirt as quickly as he can, but it’s no use. The shirt’s sleeves are too short to cover the huge greenish blotch on his arm.

His mother pulls him gently by the elbow to look closer at it. “Where did you get that, Chan?”

“Practice.” Chan mutters, tugging the sleeve down. “Let’s eat!”

Nobody moves, because they’re all still staring at the long mark on Chan’s arm.

“Did you go to the nurse?”

“Yes.” Chan lies.

“What did she say?” His mother asks, seeing right through him.

“Um… that it’ll go away?”

“Bang Chan,” His mother warns him.

“One of the guys just miscalculated, okay, it’s not a problem.” Chan says, turning to hide the bruise. “We’re all hungry, so let’s just have lunch, and-”

“You’re not being bullied again, are you?” Chan’s ten-year-old sister asks quietly.

“Miya!” Their mom says sternly as she starts rummaging through the lunches Chan had packed for them.

“I’m just asking!” His sister puts her hands up in surrender.

“No, Miya, it’s nothing like that.” Chan assures her, not realizing till then that she’d been old enough to remember that time. “Promise.”

 

Jeongin wakes up from his nap. His entire body feels like it’s been run over by a truck a couple of times. _I wonder how Spiderman goes back to school after all the Spiderman things he does…_ _Oh wait, we lost. I guess I’m not Spiderman, then._ Jeongin groans as he rolls out of bed to check his phone.

_Jesus I’ve been asleep for_ three _hours!_ Jeongin’s stomach grumbles as if on cue. _And I haven’t even had lunch._

He slides into his slippers and starts down the hallway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He can hear his parents talking quietly in the kitchen, and more importantly, he can smell something delicious and greasy.

He stumbles into the kitchen to find his parents kissing each other. Most people would have a problem with that, but Jeongin’s numb to it. He used to be grossed out by the way his parents are around each other, but then he learned arithmetic and realized his parents were in high school when they had him. _So they’re probably not even finished dating yet…_

“Mommy! I’m _hungry_ ,” Jeongin whines, smiling to himself when his parents turn to him with their eyebrows innocently raised. _They don’t even have the decency to look_ guilty _, gosh._

“Daddy made fried rice,” Jeongin’s mom says, gently pushing Jeongin’s dad away from her to pick up a pan from the stove. “Go get a bowl, sweetie.”

Jeongin grabs a bowl and sits up on the barstool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs excitedly. He loves weekends, because his dad’s the one who does the cooking. _No offense, Mommy._

Jeongin’s mom scoops him a heaping bowl of fried rice and sticks a spoon in it. She usually tells Jeongin to “eat like a person, not a dog,” but today she says nothing when he digs in like he hasn’t eaten in three days.

Jeongin’s dad pours him a glass of water. “Slow down, Jeonginnie, you’re going to get a stomachache.”

Jeongin nods, his cheeks stuffed with rice.

Jeongin’s mom laughs. “Let him be, I ate a whole chicken after my first game.”

“What?” Jeongin’s dad laughs. “Seriously?”

“A _whole_ chicken. And it wasn’t a spring chicken, it was a grown chicken, like this,” Jeongin’s mom draws a huge round shape in the air. “I was _so_ hungry, I probably would’ve eaten a whole cow if I’d have gotten my hands on one.”

Jeongin’s dad laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the whole world. Jeongin rolls his eyes and stuffs another heaping spoonful of rice in his mouth.

“What did you do after your first game?” Jeongin’s mom asks, opening the refrigerator to get Jeongin something else to eat with the fried rice.

“We went out as a team to celebrate… I think.” Jeongin’s dad frowns. He tugs on one of Jeongin’s mom’s belt loops. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Don’t know, darling, I was still in junior high then.”

“Oh.” Jeongin’s dad blushes a little bit. “Right.”

Jeongin pushes his food to one side of his mouth. “Wasn’t that the time your coach gave you beer because he forgot you were a freshman?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby,” Jeongin’s mother chides, placing a small plate with egg rolls on the counter next to his bowl.

“Sorry.”

Jeongin’s dad snaps his fingers. “Right! Coach Choi thought I was one of the seniors and he gave me a beer during the party. I got so-” His expression suddenly becomes solemn as he turns to Jeongin. “I mean, don’t drink in high school, Jeonginnie, it’s bad.”

“I know, Daddy.” Jeongin tries not to roll his eyes.

He watches his mom check her phone and frown. Before Jeongin can finish chewing, Jeongin’s dad asks, “What’s wrong?”

“The other parents want to kick Coach Park out,” Jeongin’s mom sighs.

“What for?” Jeongin’s dad frowns.

“Because we lost.” Jeongin says, feeling the rice in his stomach turning. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but remembering losing to the Weevils makes him feel a little bit sick. “For the first time in _years_.”

“Everyone loses,” Jeongin’s mom rolls her eyes dramatically. “That’s how it works.”

_Mommy knows how to make everything better,_ Jeongin smiles as he takes a bite of one of the egg rolls. His teeth come down with a crunch on a piece of eggshell probably as big as his thumbnail. _Except when it comes to food. Mommy doesn’t know shit about food._

Hyunjin watches his brother lock the front door behind him. His brother is slamming each of the locks shut with more force than is really necessary, and each bang is making Hyunjin feel guilty. _Guiltier._ They’d just gone out for lunch with Jisung, who had insisted on hot pot to celebrate the first win since he and Hyunjin had joined the Weevils. Then they’d dropped Jisung off at his aunt’s café, but Hyunjin’s brother had managed to excuse himself before Jisung’s aunt insisted on serving them coffee. Then they’d gone around some shops, window-shopping in passive-aggressive silence.

Hyunjin’s exhausted, and all he wants to do now is lie down and sleep.

_So why am I just standing here?_

Hyunjin’s brother frowns at him then, like he’s asking the same question. “Do you have any homework for tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin says. “But I did them yesterday.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin hangs around for some time more while his brother takes off his shoes – Jinyoung is the type of person who unties his laces when he takes his shoes off – and place them on the shoe rack.

“What is it? Did you forget something in the car?” Jinyoung sounds irritated with him. _He has every right to be._

Hyunjin decides he’s beaten around bush enough for one day. “Are you mad at me, hyung?”

“No.” His brother replies quickly, like he didn’t put much thought into it. “If I were mad at you, would I have treated you and your noisy classmate to lunch?”

Hyunjin shrugs.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Hyunjin’s brother asks, but the way he stuffs his feet into his slippers says otherwise. “You played well today. And we won. Somehow.”

“But I didn’t pitch.”

“Well…” Hyunjin’s brother runs a hand through his hair. “That’s your choice.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know why he’s wasted so much of their time. _Of course he’s mad at me. Who wouldn’t be?_

_Just say sorry. All you have to do is say, ‘Sorry, it won’t happen again.’_

Hyunjin stands there for some time, fiddling with the edge of his shirt, saying nothing.

Jinyoung stands there, too, like he’s waiting for something.

_Just say sorry. Say you’ll pitch next time, and you won’t wait for Chan or someone else to volunteer to do it._

Hyunjin finds a loose thread on his shirt hem. _Why can’t you just say that you’re sorry?_

Jinyoung sighs. “I’ll be studying in my room if you need me.”

“Okay.” Hyunjin nods.

He doesn’t budge until he hears the door to Jinyoung’s room – formerly their parents’ room – slam shut. He shuffles to his room, stopping at the door to Jinyoung’s room to see if he can muster up the courage to knock (he doesn’t).

Hyunjin reaches for his headphones and closes the door. He’s starting to regret suggesting that his brother come and coach for the team. _He’s not a bad coach, though. He’s actually a good coach._

_But I just want my brother back._ Hyunjin turns the music up as he lays back on his bed. _Is that selfish of me?_


	22. “How can there be 0.7 of a car?” – Kim Woojin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who were you talking to?” Jeongin’s mom asks, inevitably. 
> 
> “Oh, uh,” Jeongin clips his seatbelt on. “Park Jihyo.”
> 
> “She’s really pretty.” Jeongin’s dad notes, earning a sharp jab from Jeongin’s mom. 
> 
> “ _Darling_.” Jeongin’s mom hisses, before smiling at Jeongin again. “Is she your classmate?”
> 
> “No, she’s a senior. She’s Woojin’s classmate.” Jeongin says. “She was just asking me about him, actually.”
> 
> Jeongin’s mom’s smile widens at that. “Woojin? Really?”  
> “Atta boy, Woojin.” Jeongin’s dad grins.

_The next day_

 

Chan perks up when he hears someone at the door to the classroom mention his name. He doesn’t look up from his test paper, because he’s already sure he’s going to tank this one, might as well avoid getting accused of cheating.

“I’ll tell him after the exam.” Chan’s history teacher says to the person outside the door before going back to her seat. “Fifteen minutes left. Don’t forget the essay on the back page.”

Chan frowns and flips to the back of his paper. Sure enough, there’s a question and lines running all the way down the page. _Fuck_.

 _How could I have missed this?_ Chan looks nervously up at the clock. _There are_ TEN _minutes left, what the fuck am I going to_ do _?_

“Eyes on your paper, Mr. Bang.” The teacher barks.

Chan looks down, feeling sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t know how he’s going to come up with ten sentences, much less _one_ , about a war he’s never even heard of. Or perhaps the teacher _had_ mentioned it before, but Chan had been asleep. The late afternoons training, the piles of homework he has to do every night after all his chores, and the hoarse, droning voice of his history teacher were a recipe for disaster.

 _Come on, Chan, come on._ Chan taps his pen on the edge of his paper, brows furrowing as he tries to force some kind of answer out. But this isn’t anything like a game, where Chan can force himself to get up and run one more time, or throw one more time. Baseball is hard, but at least Chan knows how it works.

Chan crumples facedown on his desk, cheek against the paper. _Why would_ anyone _fight a war for 100 years? How could you hate someone_ that _much?_

Woojin raises his hand.

“Yes, Woojin?”

He stands up, straightening out his uniform as he does so. “The answer is 217, sir.”

His teacher frowns. “Close, but not quite. Anyone else want to try?”

Woojin sits down, scowling at his paper. _My solutions are right, aren’t they? Maybe I typed something wrong into the calculator…_

“Yes, Jihyo?”

“217.7…?” Woojin hears one of his classmates near the back say.

“Correct,” Their teacher says, writing the number on the board. “Now, for your homework, you have to answer the next forty numbers – Yes, Woojin?”

Woojin lowers his hands. “I’m sorry, Teacher, but how can there be 0.7 of a car?”

Someone to his left snickers, earning a sharp look from their teacher, who turns back to Woojin and asks, “Pardon?”

“The question was asking how many cars were produced,” Woojin explains. “So the answer must be a whole number, right? Since we’re counting cars?”

The teacher frowns. “Oh. Uh…”

“Maybe the factory started making a car but didn’t finish.” Someone at the back of the classroom says.

“What, like your homework?” Someone replies to her.

“Class, please.” The teacher holds his hands up weakly to try to get them back in order, but the entire back half of the classroom is laughing now. He turns back to Woojin. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Class, the answer is 217 cars, not 217.7.”

“Thank you.” Woojin nods. He usually feels a little smug about correcting teachers – he knows it’s shallow, but at least he gets his kicks out of things like this, not… drugs or anything. But today everything is drab compared to father’s meltdown yesterday. Woojin can still feel it ringing in his ears, like he has his father’s voice in his head just constantly shouting at him, telling him he needs to shape up and get it together and that the way he’s behaving now is unacceptable and so on.

“Class dismissed. Don’t forget the homework, it’s due tomorrow!” The teacher shouts, in the hopes that the students already filing out can still hear. “And our long exam is tomorrow! Don’t be late!”

Woojin’s stomach churns as he dumps his notebook and pencil into his bag. His stomach’s been sour all day, and he hasn’t got the appetite for anything. His father’s gotten mad at him before – Woojin can count the days in his entire life that his father _wasn’t_ mad at him – but this time Woojin feels more terrible than he’s ever felt, because he knows it’s all _his_ fault, and _he’s_ the one who’s going to suffer.

A small hand knocks on Woojin’s desk.

He looks up to find his classmate smiling at him. “Yeah?”

“Wanna study together?” Jihyo asks, thumbs looped in her backpack straps.

“Who else is coming?” Woojin asks.

“Um…” Jihyo grimaces. “Just me.”

“Oh.” Woojin makes a face. “Shit. Were you trying to ask me out again? I’m sorry.”

Jihyo lets out a puff of air. “I honestly feel bad for whoever tries to ask you out for real.”

“Wait, that wasn’t for real?”

“Of course not. I was just testing you.” Jihyo laughs, then she slams her hands down on his desk. “But I was serious about studying, please teach me compound interest, I am _dying_.”

Woojin laughs and opens his mouth to tease her about her family’s bank going bankrupt when she takes over, but then he remembers his own family.

“Shit, sorry, Ji, I can’t today.”

“Why not?” Jihyo asks, resorting to grabbing Woojin by the lapels of his jacket. “If you don’t come with me to an overpriced café and teach me compound interest I am going to _compound_ your face-”

“I’m grounded.”

Jihyo drops Woojin’s jacket. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“What did you _do_?”

Woojin doesn’t want to get into that, not with Jihyo and not in the middle of the classroom, even if there are only four or five other people left in the room. “Stuff. Whatever. Anyway, I’ve got to go straight home today.”

Jihyo chews on her bottom lip. “Then can I go to your house?”

“What do not understand about the fact that I am _grounded_?” Woojin sighs.

“Well, that just means you can’t leave the house, right?” Jihyo shrugs. “Doesn’t mean people can’t go _to_ your house-”

“The answer is no, Ji.” Woojin says, then realizing he’d been to harsh about it, he adds, “Sorry.”

Jihyo slumps dramatically into the nearest chair. “But if I fail this class my parents are going to _disown_ me!”

“Join the club.” Woojin mutters, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

Jihyo sits up. “Wait, you haven’t told me what happened.”

“I don’t need to.” Woojin says, starting out of the classroom, but he can hear Jihyo scrambling after him.

“But we’re _friends_! That’s what friends are-”

“We’re not friends.” Woojin says curtly. “Go ask someone else to teach you finance, I’m sure there are _loads_ of people dying to tutor you.”

Jihyo crosses her arms. “Screw you, dude. Seriously.”

 

“Chan, the vice principal wants to see you.” Chan’s history teacher says when she takes Chan’s test paper.

His classmates let out a low “Oooh” as Chan shoves his things into his backpack.

The history teacher turns Chan’s paper over and finds the blank space meant for the 20-point essay. She sighs. “I’d ask you to see me after class, but Vice Principal Bae’s beat me to it.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m on the way, ma’am.”

Chan slings one backpack strap on and dashes out of the classroom.

“Heeey Cap!” Jisung says, slipping out of his classroom while his teacher’s still giving out reminders. “What up!”

“Sorry, dude, Vice Principal Bae’s calling me,” Chan says quickly, ducking out of the hug Jisung’s offering.

“Holy shit, what did you _do_?”

“Dunno,” Chan shrugs jogging around a janitor trying to mop the floor. “See you at training!”

“See ya!”

Chan knocks on the vice principal’s door.

“Come in!”

Vice Principal Bae is on her laptop, squinting at something through glasses perched at the tip her nose. She notices Chan a few seconds late and waves a hand at him. “Come here. No, you don’t have to sit down, you won’t be here long.”

Chan nods and takes one tiny step closer.

“Come on, Mr. Bang, I don’t bite.” The vice principal whips her glasses off and squints at Chan. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your win yesterday.”

“Oh.” Chan doesn’t know what to do, so he ends up bowing. “Thank you, Vice Principal Bae.”

“And you won against the reigning champions, no less.” Vice Principal Bae smiles with more kindness than Chan had thought her capable of. “I’m- The school is very proud of you boys.”

“Thank you, Vice Principal.”

“When’s your next match?”

“This Saturday.” Chan says. “At the stadium near the river.”

The vice principal picks up her desk calendar. “Saturday… hmm… I’ll be there.”

“What, really?” Chan jumps in surprise.

“Yes. Why not?” The vice principal scribbles a reminder on her calendar. “I promised Jinyoung I’d come watch one of your games sometime.”

“Oh, uh,” Chan nods enthusiastically. “We’ll do our best, Vice Principal. We won’t- We’ll _try_ not to let you down.”

“I’m sure you will.” The vice principal smiles. “Pass on my congratulations to Jinyoung, would you?”

“Yes ma’am.” Chan says with a salute.

Vice Principal Bae chuckles. “You should probably get to training soon or you’ll be late. Is Jinyoung very strict with you guys?”

“Uh… Not so much, ma’am.”

“Really?” Vice Principal Bae lifts her eyebrows in disbelief. “Well, anyway, you should get going. Keep up the good work, Mr. Bang.”

“Thank you, Vice Principal, we’ll do our best.”

 

Woojin asks the chauffeur to take the long way home. He thinks it’s so he has some time to collect himself before having to deal with his parents again, but when the car rounds a corner and ends up driving by one of the nearby parks, Woojin realizes he’d played himself.

There are a few figures dotted on the grass in one of the less hilly parts of the park, jogging in a little crowd while clearly screaming their lungs out. It’s clearly the Weevils, still without a proper field to practice in. _And they’re probably singing that jeans song again._

The shrill shriek of a whistle carries all the way into Woojin’s car, and the boys suddenly shut their mouths and jog faster. But it only lasts until Woojin’s car rounds another corner before they all start screaming again.

Woojin wonders if he ever had that much fun during training. _When I was 7, maybe._

The park eventually disappears from sight. _No, I remember when I was 7…_

_Woojin was seven years old when his father first made him start baseball training. It had been a tradition in their family to play baseball, his father had explained, starting from his father’s father. Woojin’s grandfather had been a famous baseball player in the 70’s who had turned to stadium building after his retirement._

_“Did_ you _play baseball?” Woojin had asked his father._

_His father had laughed. “Yes, but I wasn’t any good at it. I was better at business.”_

_Woojin had been confused then. “So what if_ I’m _not good at baseball, either?”_

_“Oh, you will be.”_

 

Jeongin’s wiping his face on a towel covered in kittens – _Mommy’s really trying to get me beat up, huh_ – when Minho calls him over.

“What’s up?” Jeongin asks, jogging over. “My parents are going to be here any minute…”

“Someone came to see you.” Minho waggles his eyebrows as he nods to the ballpark’s chain-link gate. The other Bears are drinking water and throwing their stuff into their bags to go home, but all of them seem _really_ interested in the person standing by the gate, waving widely in Minho and Jeongin’s direction. It’s the student council president, but everyone in Jeongin’s class just calls her the Prettiest Girl at School.

“Yang Jeongin!” She shouts.

 _What could she want with_ me? Jeongin makes a face. “Seriously?”

Minho shrugs. “Dunno. Guess it’s your lucky day.”

Jeongin scowls at him as he walks over, tucking the kitten towel behind his back. He’s not interested in the Prettiest Girl at School, but he’s less interested in the entire student council talking about his babyish towel.

“Hi…?”

“Hi,” She says, leaning on the gate. “We’ve never spoken before, but I’m Jihyo.”

_I know._

“Um…” Jeongin crumples the towel in his hand. “So did you want something? I mean, I don’t mean to be rude or anything-”

“You must really be Woojin’s friend.” She says with a long sigh. “Come out here, I need to talk to you.”

“About Woojin?” Jeongin asks, just to be sure.

“What else would I need to talk to you about?” She laughs, opening the gate for Jeongin.

Jeongin heaves a sigh of relief. He’s deathly afraid of _girls_ , and ever since one of his classmates had confessed to him that she’s in love with him or something like that, he’s been on guard.

 _As if the Prettiest Girl at School would seriously like_ you _, Jeongin, get over yourself._

“W- What about Woojin?”

“What happened to him?” Jihyo asks, going straight into student council president mode. “Nothing happened in school, so I’m guessing it happened here. Does it have something to do with you guys losing yesterday? Were his parents really mad?”

Jeongin finds himself backs up against the fence. “I, uh… no.”

“What do you _mean_ ‘No’? I asked you like a million questions!”

“He’s, uh,” Jeongin’s starting to sweat again. “I don’t think he’d want me to tell you.”

“I’m _going_ to find out one way or another.” Jihyo crosses her arms. “Why is he not at practice? What happened? Did he get kicked off the team? _Why_?”

“Um.” Jeongin gulps. “He got into a fight with the captain of the Weevils.”

“What?” Jihyo’s eyes flutter a little as she tries to wrap her mind around that. “ _Woojin?_ _Fighting?_ Like, _fighting_ fighting? Are we talking about the same Woojin? When was this? Yesterday?”

“No, it was a couple of weeks ago. At training camp,” Jeongin says. _Please forgive me, Woojin, she’s_ really _scary._ “The Weevils’ captain started it. He punched Woojin and then Woojin fought back and it was a mess and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jihyo holds up both hands to stop him. “ _Kim Woojin punched someone?_ Was he _high_!?”

“I- I don’t think so.” Jeongin frowns. _As far as I know???_

“Son of a bitch.” Jihyo mutters. “So what happened? Was he kicked off the team?”

Jeongin notices a little orange coupe roll up to the side of the street behind the student council president. “I, uh, my parents are here, I’ve gotta go-”

“Wait, what happened to Woojin? Tell me.”

Jeongin gulps again. _No wonder the school never rejects the council’s budget plans._

“He was demoted to Team B.” Jeongin says, seeing the window of the coupe roll down to reveal his mom making funny hand gestures and pointing at Jihyo. “I’m sorry, I really have to go, my parents are here.”

Jihyo’s expression lightens up as she turns around and sees the couple waving from the orange coupe. She smiles and waves back.

“Thanks, Jeongin!” She says. “See you at school!”

“S- Sure.” Jeongin says, before running to get his bag.

He ignores Minho’s flood of questions and gets into the car as quickly as he can. He kisses his mom on the cheek. “Hi Mommy. Hi Daddy.”

“Who were you talking to?” Jeongin’s mom asks, inevitably.

“Oh, uh,” Jeongin clips his seatbelt on. “Park Jihyo.”

“She’s really pretty.” Jeongin’s dad notes, earning a sharp jab from Jeongin’s mom.

“ _Darling_.” Jeongin’s mom hisses, before smiling at Jeongin again. “Is she your classmate?”

“No, she’s a senior. She’s Woojin’s classmate.” Jeongin says. “She was just asking me about him, actually.”

Jeongin’s mom’s smile widens at that. “Woojin? Really?”

“Atta boy, Woojin.” Jeongin’s dad grins.


	23. “Woojin, best pitcher in the whole fucking world” - Yoo Jeongyeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey Ji,” Woojin frowns. “What’s up?”
> 
> “Oh, nothing,” Jihyo says, waving a hand carelessly, which only says, _Something is definitely up_. “Could I borrow Jeongin for a minute?”
> 
> Woojin drops his knife from sheer confusion, like all his brainpower went to trying to figure that out and none was left for holding his utensils. Jeongin stops trying to rub his taste buds off. 
> 
> “Jeongin?” Woojin asks, pointing at the freshman. “As in, him?”
> 
> “Me?” Jeongin points at himself.
> 
> Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yes, you. Can we make this quick? I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

_Friday_

 

Chan doesn’t check the score on his history exam until the end of the class.

_12/50._

Chan laughs out loud, then notices that his history teacher’s still standing in the doorway.

“A word, Mr. Bang?”

“Y- Yes, ma’am.” Chan slips his exam into his backpack and follows the teacher out the door.

The teacher closes the door behind her and folds her arms. “What happened in that exam?”

“I, uh…” Chan lowers his head. “I’m sorry, Teacher, it won’t happen again.”

“Chan,” The history teacher says gently. “You’ve been saying that for months now.”

“I know,” Chan frowns. “I’ll work even harder, I promise.”

The history teacher purses her lips. “You know you’re going to have to take the college entrance test in a few months, right?”

Chan’s shoulders sag. _How could I forget?_ “Yes, ma’am.”

“I heard you’re a very good player. One of the best, probably.” The history teacher says, trying desperately to lighten the mood – Chan appreciates that. “But sports aren’t everything, Chan. You’ll need something to fall back on in case- I mean, when you retire and things like that.”

_In case you don’t make it as a pro. In case you burn out,_ Chan finishes the sentence for her. He nods politely. “I know.”

“I’m not trying to put you down or anything, okay? I’m just worried about you.”

“Thanks, Teacher.” Chan says. He’s choosing between saying _I’ll try harder_ and _I’ll do better next time_ , but the truth is that he’s already doing his best, and it’s still clearly not enough.

“When’s your next game?” The history teacher asks suddenly.

“Tomorrow.”

“Good luck!”

“Thank you.”

 

_Saturday_

 

“All right, boys,” Assistant Coach Yoo says, rounding up Team B after they’ve finished warming up. “Coach Park’s sorry he can’t make it-” Everyone in the huddle knows that’s a lie. “-but we’re all going to kick ass even without him, right?”

“Right!” Half of Team B cheer, while the other half shrug half-heartedly. Woojin’s part of the second half.

“I know everyone gives you guys crap about being Team B or whatever,” Assistant Coach Yoo blows an impressive bubble and pops it before saying, “But we’re still the S---- High Growling Bears, best team in the country. Don’t let anyone forget that.”

Woojin can’t help but half-smile at that. _Assistant Coach Yoo is really something with Coach Park gone._

“And we’ve got the Captain with us today, best pitcher in the whole fucking world.” Assistant Coach Yoo waggles her fingers proudly in Woojin’s direction. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”

_Oh god._ Woojin wants to dig a hole in the middle of the diamond and bury himself alive right now, but he smiles and nods at the adoring looks of the rest of Team B.

 

Chan’s mother, in a desperate attempt not to be late for the game, has everyone out of the house an entire hour before Chan’s match. So the game before theirs is still ongoing when they arrive, with nowhere to sit but the very top of the bleachers, behind four rows of aggressive families.

“…should put him back in Team A.” Chan overhears one of the dads say.

“Yeah.” Another dad replies. “I’m not gonna say he’s the reason they lost last week, but he is, if you look at it.”

“Really good kid. Just like his grandfather.”

Chan settles down with his five-year-old brother in his lap and looks out onto the field. The team fielding are wearing familiar deep green jerseys, and the pitcher’s just shut another batter out.

_Hi Woojin,_ Chan thinks with a smile, forgetting that he’s still upset with the other captain.

“Who’s against who?” Chan’s dad asks, leaning towards him.

“S---- High Bears are fielding, Y----- Eagles are batting.” Chan replies.

“The Bears?” Chan’s dad squints at the field. “The same Bears you beat last week?”

Chan smirks when one of the dads in front of them overhears his dad and gives them a dirty look.

“No, it’s their Team B.” Chan whispers in as low a voice as he can.

“Ah.” Chan’s dad nods. “Their pitcher’s really good.”

“Yeah. He is.” Chan says, watching Woojin throw another impossible pitch without any effort, much to the frustration of the Eagle at bat, who throws the bat away and storms back to their dugout.

 

Just when Woojin thinks he’s gotten into the swing of things – no pun intended – he makes the mistake of looking up at the bleachers. His dad usually watches every single one of his games, but he can’t see him in the stands.

_He must really be ashamed of me._

Woojin notices something else in the bleachers.

_Dammit._

The Weevils’ captain is sitting calmly at the top of the bleachers with a toddler in his lap that looks a lot like him, which is cute, but that’s not what bothers Woojin. _I don’t want him watching me,_ Woojin thinks, but he doesn’t know why. _Not right now._

Woojin flubs the next pitch, obviously.

“Ball!”

He takes a deep breath, but the more he tries to ignore the other captain sitting in the stands, watching him, the harder it gets. _It’s like when you’re trying not to pee and you keep thinking about it and it gets more difficult-_

_Did I just compare a person to pee?_

“Ball!”

Woojin shuts his eyes. _If you’re this easily distracted, maybe you’re_ really _the terrible player Coach Park and your dad think you are, Woojin._

Woojin narrows his thoughts until they’re like a tiny, tiny cone pointing directly at the space just after the batter’s knee.

“Strike!”

Woojin glances at the bleachers to find the other captain smiling.

“Strike!”

Chan’s holding his little brother’s hands to cheer for Woojin. _No, you idiot, he’ll cheer for anything. Don’t forget he’s still mad at you._

Still, it makes Woojin smile.

“Out!”

 

Chan passes his little brother to his mom after the game. His brother wraps a fist in Chan’s shirt, refusing to let him go.

“Come on, big bro has to go play now,” Chan laughs, trying to uncurl his brother’s tiny fingers.

“No.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” Chan pouts.

His brother, sufficiently disgusted, lets go of Chan’s shirt.

“Good luck!” His younger sister says, giving him a hug as he tries to make his way out of the bleachers.

“Thank you.” Chan hugs her back before hopping down from the bleachers. He’s just caught sight of his teammates starting to gather by the other end of the bleachers when he bumps into someone. “Oops, sorry.”

Woojin blinks at him. “Sorry.”

“Uh, good game. Out there. Awhile ago.” Chan doesn’t know why he’s suddenly forgetting how to speak like a human.

“Thanks.” The other captain looks down.

_Stop being embarrassing!_

“I’m gonna go. To my team. Over there.” Chan points two finger guns at the gaggle of Weevils some distance behind Woojin. “Yup.”

“Good luck.” Woojin says, giving Chan a smile that actually feels sincere.

_Maybe we’re done being pissed at each other. Didn’t get the memo._

“Thanks.” Chan says, taking a step to the left to go around Woojin, but Woojin also takes a step to his right, blocking Chan by accident.

“Sorry.” They both say at once, both taking a step in the opposite direction like they’re doing the worst waltz in history.

“Please, uh,” Chan grabs the other captain by the shoulders and gently moves him to the side. “Bye.”

“Bye.” The other captain frowns, like he can’t believe what Chan’s just done to him.

Chan can’t, either. _Why are you so embarrassing today?_

_Monday_

 

“Congrats on the game yesterday, Cap.”

“It was last Saturday,” Woojin corrects the freshman currently unpacking his lunch across the table from him. “But thanks.”

Jeongin pops one of his lunch containers open carefully, like he’s defusing a bomb. “Good god.”

“Why?” Woojin cranes his neck to take a eek at the contents of Jeongin’s lunch. It’s a pile of lumpy, _very_ dark brown shapes. “Is that… beef?”

“Once upon a time, maybe,” Jeongin rolls his eyes as he takes a bite. He immediately spits the… meat back into the container, sputtering as he reaches for a tissue to wipe his tongue. “IT’S HOTDOG! IT’S _BURNT_ HOTDOG!”

Woojin laughs so hard he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “A- Are you okay, man?” He manages to ask after catching his breath for a minute.

“Give me your knife, Cap,” Jeongin says, still trying to rub the charred bits of previously-hotdog off his tongue. “I’m cutting my tongue off.”

Woojin holds fast to his knife. “Aw, come on, your mom’s gonna be so upset if you can’t taste her cooking anymore.”

“One of these days her cooking will kill me. Let’s see how _she_ enjoys _that._ ” Jeongin mutters before downing half of his entire water jug.

Before Woojin can come up with something funny to say to that – funny comebacks always take over a second for him – a shadow falls over their table. They both look up to find Park Jihyo standing there, fluffy white cardigan and determined look and all.

Which Woojin had never seen in all his years of high school. Jihyo’s been his friend since preschool, but she has her friends and her council and a million other people to have lunch with, so she never bothers Woojin. “ _Separation of church and state”_ is what they call it.

“Hey Ji,” Woojin frowns. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jihyo says, waving a hand carelessly, which only says, _Something is definitely up._ “Could I borrow Jeongin for a minute?”

Woojin drops his knife from sheer confusion, like all his brainpower went to trying to figure that out and none was left for holding his utensils. Jeongin stops trying to rub his taste buds off.

“Jeongin?” Woojin asks, pointing at the freshman. “As in, him?”

“Me?” Jeongin points at himself.

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yes, _you_. Can we make this quick? I have a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, uh,” Jeongin shoves all his lunch containers towards Woojin as he stands up. “Yeah, sorry.”

Woojin is left with a container of hotdogs burnt beyond recognition and about a dozen questions.

 

Jeongin ignores the thumbs up his classmates give him when they see him trot past after the Prettiest Girl in School. He tries giving a few of them dirty looks and pantomimed death threats, but he realizes that just makes him look more guilty…of whatever it is they think he’s doing.

“Where are we going?” Jeongin asks finally, when the student council president holds one of the emergency exit doors open for him.

“Away from Woojin.” Is her cryptic reply as Jeongin steps out into the tiny alley behind the main school building.

_This is sketchy as_ fuck _,_ Jeongin thinks when the emergency doors slam behind Jihyo.

“Uh… why?” Jeongin asks, backing up against the brick outer wall. He had a nightmare like this before, except it was a demon backing him into an alley, not a senior girl. _Same difference, really_.

“I need your help.” Jihyo says. “We need to get Woojin back in Team A.”

Jeongin nods slowly. “Um… I’d love to help but I’m kind of a freshma-”

“I know, Coach Park won’t listen to you, not that he listens to anyone ever,” Jihyo rolls her eyes for a moment then glares at Jeongin with more intensity than his fragile fourteen-year-old frame is built to handle. “But you’re his replacement, right?”

“I wouldn’t say _replace_ -”

“Whatever you want to call it, you’re doing his job for Team A.” Jihyo says. “I imagine you must be good at it, if Coach Park’s letting a freshman do it.”

Jeongin blushes, remembering their game other Sunday. “Uh, no, not really.”

“Well, however good you are,” Jihyo says. “I need you to fuck it up.”

“Like… in a good way?”

“No, fuck it up in a _bad_ way. Make it clear that Coach Park needs to get Woojin back.”

_Pretty sure I did that already, but sure, whatever you say, I guess_. Jeongin shrugs. “Ok.”

“This season’s really important for Woojin, and I can’t- Wait, what?” Jihyo frowns.

“I said, _Ok_.”

“Oh.” Jihyo’s frown lifts only a little bit. “That was…easier than I expected. Wait, you might get kicked off the team if you do this-”

“I know.” Jeongin shrugs again. “That’s okay.”

Jihyo’s frown becomes a vaguely scandalized look. “Getting kicked off the team is _okay_ with you?”

“Yeah.” Jeongin finds himself shrugging _again_. “It’s not like I’m under any pressure to get a scholarship like Cap is or whatever. I’m just playing because my mom loves baseball and… yeah, it’s mostly for her.”

Jihyo blinks hard. “What, really?”

“Yeah. But she probably won’t be too upset if I get kicked off the team, she hates Coach Park anyway, so she’ll just be more pissed at him than usual.” Jeongin frowns when the student council president turns away from him to bend over a nearby stair rail. “Hey, are you okay?”

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jihyo sobs.

 

Chan runs into the park half an hour late, because his math teacher had held him back for a remedial class. He’s expecting their Coach to drag him through the dirt for being so late, but he jogs onto the grass unscathed.

Coach Park is nowhere to be seen, which is weird, since he’s never late for training and never disappears in the middle of one – Hyunjin had told Chan that his brother had so much time because he’s a “jobless ex-student,” but Chan had learned to take things that Hyunjin said with a whole sack of salt.

_Coach is missing, and yet…_

“Heya Cap!” Changbin waves before catching a ball in his glove with a solid, satisfying sound. The glove isn’t his – not a single person on the team has a glove that isn’t peeling like a birch tree.

“Someone give him a glove!” Jisung shouts, and Hyunjin races off to a pile of things by the tree to get a glove.

_They’re all doing drills, even Hyunjin...and Hyunjin doesn’t have a milk tea. And where did all this equipment come from? How come we have more than two complete baseballs? And nice gloves? And metal bats???_

“Hi…” Chan looks around feeling completely lost. “What’s going on, guys?”

“Don’t know.” Hyunjin shrugs. “Hyung just left a bag full of stuff with a note for you. Didn’t tell me anything.”

He hands a note over to Chan, who manages to thank him in his confusion.

              _Hey Chan, I’ve got something to do today. Make sure nobody dents any of this stuff. It’s just borrowed. – PJY_

Chan flips the paper over and finds that it’s the back of a receipt for a burger. _Well, that explains one thing, at least._

“Here’s your glove.” Hyunjin hands him a shiny black glove. “And we’re out of partners, so just join whoever.”

“Okay.” Chan frowns at the initials scrawled on the glove in permanent marker. _KYH? Who is this?_

 

Chan has the rest of the team playing a game – well, as much as they can with just ten people – when their coach finally arrives. Chan doesn’t notice him arrive, but he _does_ hear him after Jisung keep insisting on pitching for the game when he’s clearly struggling.

Chan, who knows he isn’t the best pitcher out there, winces when Jisung throws a particularly terrible pitch. It’s practically a grounder, and bounces off the batter’s sneakers.

“What the hell was _that_!” Jinyoung shouts, not in an unkind way, but in a kind of unkind way.

“It was _one_ crappy pitch, Coach!” Jisung whines.

“One of many,” Changbin, who’s at bat, mutters.

“Fuck off!” Jisung tears his glove off and throws it at Changbin.

To everyone’s surprise, Jisung’s glove hits Changbin on the ass.

“Strike.” Jinyoung says with a smirk.

“ _COACH!_ THIS IS…uh…CYBERBULLYING!” Changbin drops the bat and points an accusatory finger at Jisung.

Their coach ignores him and makes a dive for the bat on the ground. “We’re just _borrowing_ these!”

Chan looks down at the initials on his glove. “From whom, Coach?”

“An old teammate of mine.” Their coach says in a strangely defensive way.

Hyunjin rolls a ball thoughtfully in his palm. “You stole these, didn’t you, hyung?”

Their coach gives his brother a slightly hurt look, but he doesn’t deny it. Chan heaves a long sigh. He’s convinced that their coach is a genius at this point, but the man was probably absent when God was handing out morals.

“Coach…” Chan says, shoulders sagging.

“What? It’s not like he was using them.” Jinyoung says defensively, clutching the bat to his chest. “And he’s got so many.”

Chan doesn’t even want to think about who their coach had stolen the equipment from. _Poor KYH, whoever he is._

“We can’t keep using these.” Chan slides the glove off his hand. “Give the gloves back, guys.”

His teammates follow suit, shedding their gloves and handing them over to Chan, who’s putting them in the empty bag by the tree. It takes a bit of prodding to get Felix to let go of his (“But it feels so _good_ , Cap” “It’s not ours” “Fine”), but Chan eventually collects all the gloves and hands them over to their coach, who’s pouting at him like a kid.

“Please return everything, Coach.” Chan says, like he’s gently scolding his younger brother and not their team’s coach.

“But-!”

“No buts,” Chan says, before realizing he’s talking to his coach and not his little brother. _Oh god he’s probably so pissed, Chan, what are you_ doing _?_ “I- I mean, please, Coach, sir, we can’t keep using them-”

“Sure you can.” Their coach pushes the bag back at Chan. He cups a hand around his mouth. “Keep playing, boys!”

Chan sighs. “Coach, stealing is _wrong_.”

Their coach pats Chan on the arm. “You need to lower your standards a little, Cap, they’re not realistic.”

Chan wonders if that’s true. Then he shakes his head and walks back to the game. _Of course not. Don’t listen to him. He’s a moral cesspit. A kind and hardworking moral cesspit, but still…_

“The batter’s not _under_ _the ground_ , Jisung!” Their coach calls out, earning a sour look from Jisung.

 

Woojin drags his feet up the front steps to his house. Coach Park had decided to double Team B’s training for the day, since Team B only had two days of training for every five of Team A’s. Woojin, and everyone else in Team B, knew that it had nothing to do with the training schedule. It was plain old revenge, the petty, inexcusable kind of revenge that Coach Park pulled so often that Woojin wonders how he put up with it for the past few years of high school.

_Woojin had waited for Coach Park to walk off, a smug grin on his face once he’d decided that Team B had had enough. Woojin and the rest of Team B were lying or sitting on the grass, gasping for air and groaning as they tried to move their limbs._

_“Sorry, guys.” Woojin had managed to pull himself up to give his teammates an apologetic bow. He doesn’t know them very well, and he was surprised to find them bowing back profusely, one even crumpling to the ground – whether on purpose or not._

_“No, Captain, it’s not your fault!”_

_“We’ve never won a game against the Eagles before!”_

_“You haven’t done anything wrong, Captain,_ sir _!”_

It had done wonders for Woojin’s mood, even if he feels like his limbs are all trying to fall off his body. He gives the doorman a quick nod, and doesn’t take any mind of the doorman’s strange look, or the extra shoes on the shelf by the door.

Woojin’s dragging his feet and his duffel bag to the stairs when he hears noises from the tearoom. He figures his mother has friends over, judging from the tinkling of china, and heads up to his room as fast as he can to avoid them asking him where he plans to go to university.

He’s so tired he just leans on his door to open it and collapses in a heap on the rug.

“Holy shit, Woojin, are you okay?”

Woojin sits up slowly, eyes only half-open. There’s someone in his room. On his bed.

_What the_ fuck _?_


	24. “Thank god my parents never bothered to give me any siblings” – Kim Woojin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan sneezes. “Excuse me!”
> 
> “You okay, Cap?” Changbin and Felix ask at once, from where they’re doing some throw-and-catch drills to Chan’s right. Hyunjin, who’s waiting to catch the ball from Chan, lifts his eyebrows in concern.
> 
> “Yeah, I just-” Chan sneezes again, stumbling backward a few steps. “ _Gosh_! Sorry!”
> 
> “Eyyy, someone’s thinking about you, Cap.” Felix grips the ball as he nudges Chan with his elbow. 
> 
> “Isn’t that when you bite your tongue?” Changbin frowns. 
> 
> “Oh.” Felix looks up thoughtfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternately titled: “Bitch. I don’t care about girls.” – Kim Woojin

_Present_

“I’m okay, training today was just rough.” Woojin says, brushing off help getting up.

“I honestly thought you’d died, dude.” Jihyo says, hopping back onto the edge of his bed with a bounce.

Woojin flinches. She knows he hates it when she touches his stuff, and she _must_ remember that time in the fifth grade that he’d shouted at her for going through his closet.

“What do you want?” Woojin asks, crossing his arms.

“My mom had a meeting here,” Jihyo swings her feet. “So I guessed I’d say hi to my _bestie_.”

“I’m not teaching you math.” Woojin grumbles, kicking his bag to a corner.

“Screw that, I already failed that exam. Thanks to _you_ ,” Jihyo throws one of Woojin’s pillows at him.

Woojin’s too tired to duck, so he just takes it in the face with a sigh. The pillow flops in a hapless heap on the hardwood floor. “What do you want, Ji?”

“I told you, I just came to say hi.” Jihyo crosses her arms. “Why don’t you believe me?”

In all the years Woojin had known her, she had never not had an ulterior motive. The first time he’d met her had been his fourth birthday party, when their parents had become partners on the first of a long string of failed business projects. Jihyo had been extra kind to him, so she could get the first ride and a few extra rounds on the pony.

“Just spit it out, Ji, I’m too fucking tired for bullshit today.” Woojin flops onto the rug. He’d rather flop onto the lounge chair, but he’s too muddy, and it’s much easier to have the rug washed than the upholstery.

“Fine.” Jihyo prods Woojin on the side with one big toe. “You have to tell me what happened.”

“Coach Park doubled our training today.”

“No, you idiot,” Jihyo groans. “ _How did you get kicked off the team?_ ”

“I’m still in Team B.” Woojin groans. _And my body won’t let me forget it._

“That’s pretty much kicked off the team, and you know it.” Jihyo says, and it makes Woojin feel twice as sore, like she’d run over him with a monster truck. “What happened? Your freshie friend didn’t want to tell me anything.”

Woojin laughs, then grabs his side in pain. “Here I was worried you were hitting on him or something.”

“Haha what the _fuck_?” Jihyo chokes on her own spit laughing. “He’s a _baby_! He couldn’t even look me in the eyes!”

“Don’t take it personally,” Woojin says. “He can’t look _any_ girl in the eyes.”

“Awww, little baby, so afraid of girls.” Jihyo pinches the air in front of her like it’s Jeongin’s cheeks. “Just like you.”

“Bitch.” Woojin picks the pillow off the floor and throws it at Jihyo, immediately crumpling in pain. _Dumbass used your pitching arm._ “I don’t care about girls.”

“Except me, right?” Jihyo pokes him with her foot again, which she knows very well that Woojin hates.

“What’s it going to take for me to get rid of you?” Woojin groans, laying starfish flat on the rug.

“Tell me everything.” Jihyo says, her voice suddenly getting low and serious. “From the start.”

Woojin desperately wants her to leave so he can take a hot shower and a long nap, so he tells her everything from the training camp.

Leaving out as many details as he can about the Weevils’ captain, of course.

 

Chan sneezes. “Excuse me!”

“You okay, Cap?” Changbin and Felix ask at once, from where they’re doing some throw-and-catch drills to Chan’s right. Hyunjin, who’s waiting to catch the ball from Chan, lifts his eyebrows in concern.

“Yeah, I just-” Chan sneezes again, stumbling backward a few steps. “ _Gosh_! Sorry!”

“Eyyy, someone’s thinking about you, Cap.” Felix grips the ball as he nudges Chan with his elbow.

“Isn’t that when you bite your tongue?” Changbin frowns.

“Oh.” Felix looks up thoughtfully.

“What’s going on here?” Jinyoung asks, walking over after trying (and failing) to correct Jisung’s form. “What are we debating on? What’s the discussion?”

Felix smiles. “Oh, we were just wondering if when you sneeze-”

“Fee!” Changbin hisses at the freshman. “The drill!”

Felix notices the cold, hard glare their coach is giving him. “Oh. Uh. I mean, nothing, Coach. Sir. Master.”

Felix turns quickly and throws the ball in Changbin’s general direction. The ball flies over Changbin’s overextended glove and towards the trees.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, then glances at his brother for a split second before turning to Chan. _That_ one doesn’t fly over Chan’s head. The Park brothers have been pretty awkward with each other lately. _Well, more than usual._

Chan knows it’s _definitely_ not his place to meddle in other families’ affairs, but that doesn’t stop him from itching to do it.

“Captain.” Jinyoung says, in that fake-bored way he’s been saying anything around his brother, like nothing’s up when something is _definitely_ up. “Drills.”

“Oh right sorry Coach sir.” Chan says in one breath, before throwing the ball back at Hyunjin, who catches it with a blanker expression than usual.

The coach doesn’t move on, like he’s waiting for Hyunjin to throw the ball back.

Hyunjin just grips the ball with his throwing hand, staring dead ahead for some time, like he’s waiting for his brother to leave.

Chan desperately wants to do something, or just _die_ , because he can’t stand being stuck between these two and not being able to _do_ anything.

“Hey, uh, Hyunjin!” Chan calls as amiably as he can. “Over here,” Chan waves his glove.

Hyunjin doesn’t mind him, and keeps turning the ball around in his hand, eyes trained forward like a _really_ good soldier.

Their coach, on the other hand, keeps his feet planted firmly on the ground, staring ahead with the same intensity.

Chan feels the tips of his hair catching fire. “So, uh, Coach…”

“What?” Jinyoung says, not really paying attention to Chan.

“These are pretty nice,” Chan asks, holding up the glove he’s been using for the past two weeks. Chan isn’t the type to bite the hand that feeds, but he can’t sleep at night not knowing where the hand’s getting the food to begin with. “Where _did_ you borrow the equipment from?”

“Borrow?” Hyunjin scoffs loudly. “You mean _steal_.”

“You’re getting really bold for someone who won’t even _try_ pitch-” Jinyoung starts, but his face screws up into a regretful scowl as soon as he realizes what he’s saying. “Whatever.”

Chan looks back at Hyunjin, who’s turned and started walking away. Chan’s chest clenches. He doesn’t know what to do – _I mean, I know I’ve got to settle things down between them, before someone does something they’ll really regret-_

Hyunjin stops once he’s around fifteen meters away, spins around and throws a pitch faster than Chan can blink.

Chan braces himself for the impact, because he’s sure his glove won’t be up to catch it in time, but at what seems like the very last minute, the ball curves and whips to his left, missing their coach’s arm by a hair’s breadth. The ball slams into a tree some space behind the two of them.

Chan remembers to breathe a second later, surprised to still be breathing at all.

“Hyunjin!” Jinyoung shouts, starting after his brother, who’s running towards the densely forested part of the park. “Come back here! Hyunjin!”

Chan can still hear the sound of the ball whipping past him ringing in his ears. The other boys had stopped doing their drills to inspect the tree after hearing the sound the ball had made hitting it. Chan wants to go after the Parks, but he knows he shouldn’t, because meddling in other people’s business just doesn’t seem to turn out right for him.

He’s worried for Hyunjin, but he’s also never seen someone throw with that much precision, and with enough force to put a dent in a _fully-grown fucking tree_.

 

Changbin arrives to Woollim High School late that Sunday, changing into his jersey while he runs in from the gate. Someone whistles at him, which he smirks at, but he doesn’t have time to see who’d done it, and if they were hot.

“Changbin!” Felix nearly falls at his feet when he gets to the dugout. The rest of the boys are all turning to him like they’re expecting him to do something. _The fuck is going on?_

“Coach isn’t here, Cap isn’t here, and Hyunjin isn’t here,” Jisung spits out in one panicked breath. “So you’re in charge now.”

The honor dawns on Changbin. “What? _Me?_ ”

Changbin stands up a little straighter. _I’m in charge now… I’m the Big Cheese… It’s what I’ve always wanted…_

_Oh god it’s fucking terrible what do I do???_ Changbin starts chewing on an already-lopsided nail.

“Who’s the coach over here?” The umpire asks, squinting at the circle of anxious boys.

“Uh…” Changbin looks around, but everyone’s just shaking their heads.

“He’s the captain now.” Felix points at Changbin.

“I am _what_?” Changbin’s voice squeaks.

“Yeah, he’s our captain now,” Jisung and Hyunjoon push Changbin towards the umpire, ducking behind him as much as they possibly can.

“I am _not_!” Changbin hisses back at them, before looking at the umpire. _Why does this umpire look like an ex-con? WHY DOES HE HAVE TATTOOS GOING UP TO HIS HEAD?_ “Uh… ummm…”

“Your team needs at least ten players in five minutes or they win by default.” The umpire nods towards the Woollim High School Wolves sitting on their bench, clearly getting bored from waiting.

Changbin opens his mouth to say something like, “Yes, sir”, but all that comes out is a low, shuddering whine.

The umpire makes a face and walks away.

“Dude!” Jisung grabs Changbin by the shoulders and shakes him. “What do we _do_!?”

“How should I know!” Changbin chokes out. “I’ve only been the captain for like _two minutes_!”

“We’re doooomed,” Felix slumps onto the bench dramatically.

Changbin searches for any nails on his hands that haven’t been chewed down to a stub, but he’s all out. _Should I pray? Would anyone up there even listen? And what the hell am I supposed to ask them?_

“Hyunjin.” Jinyoung knocks on the door to his brother’s room. “We’ve got to go now. We might lose by default.”

His brother doesn’t reply, probably because he’s got his headphones on. Jinyoung regrets ever buying those infernal noise-cancelling headphones for that not-so-little brat.

“Hyunjin!” Jinyoung’s banging his fist on the door. “Let’s go! Now!”

“No.” Comes Hyunjin’s cold reply.

“Park Hyunjin! We have to leave, _now_!”

“No.” Hyunjin says, in a voice so calm that Jinyoung wants to kick the door down.

He could, of course. Their doors are made of plywood and Jinyoung could probably kick down mahogany when he’s _this_ pissed off. “PARK HYUNJIN, IF YOU DON’T COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW-”

Jinyoung stops and himself leans his forehead on the door. He’s so mad that his head’s literally starting to get warm. Or maybe he’s coming down with something and he just hasn’t noticed, because he’s been too busy trying to get his brother to stop acting like such a little bitch the past few days. _I’d already apologized too many fucking times, he’s just being unreasonable._

Jinyoung knocks again, gently this time. “Hyunjin, I’m going now.”

“Bye.” Hyunjin replies.

“There’s lunch in the fridge, just reheat it if I’m not back by then.” Jinyoung says. “Except the salad, it’s supposed to be cold.”

“Ok.”

 

Woojin had hoped that his being “grounded” would mean that he didn’t have to attend his cram school halfway across the city, but it turns out that his parents had signed him up for _more_ sessions with the godforsaken cram school since he’s “less serious” about baseball.

Woojin watches the chauffeur through the rearview mirror. _If I asked him not to take me to the cram school… would he?_

Woojin decides against it, and he’s just about to settle back into his seat, blasting his music in his headphones for the rest of the ride, when he sees a group of people standing helplessly by the side of the road.

They’re almost a blur as Woojin’s car zooms past, but he sees the terrible fuchsia uniform of the Weevils as they drive past.

_Who are you kidding, Woojin? You know_ exactly _who that is._

This seems to Woojin to be one of those times that they bring up again when you’re trying to get into the pearly gates. The angels are going to ask him, _Did you let that entire family, including their cute little baby, just stand there in the heat while you sat comfortably in your air-conditioned car?_

Woojin knows he’s just going to look those angels in the eyes and say, _What do you think?_

Though he’s not sure his intentions are entirely aligned with what they want.

“Excuse me,” Woojin taps the seat of the chauffeur gently. “Could we turn around and go back there, please?”

 

Chan frowns when a big black luxury car with blacked-out windows rolls to a stop in front of them. Should he be worried or happy?

His dad tenses up next to him, holding onto the hands of Chan’s younger siblings more tightly. Chan tightens his arms around his youngest brother.

The back door of the car opens, and someone in brand new sneakers hops out.

“Hi Chan, and uh, family.” Woojin says with an awkward wave. “Do you, uh, need a lift somewhere?”

Chan looks at his dad, then at his mom. Neither seem to know what to do, because in all the scenarios they’d run though in their minds, nothing like this had turned up.

“I’ve got to stay with the car until the towers pick it up,” Chan’s dad says after a _very_ long pause. “But Chan has a game to get to.”

“He’s already late,” Chan’s mom adds, coming back to her senses. Which means, of course, that she’s panicking.

“Of course.” Woojin holds the back door open as graciously as he can. “Where’s your game today?”

“No, thanks, I mean, I’m already late,” Chan’s starting to sweat from embarrassment. “And we couldn’t possibly impose on you like that.”

 

“It’s no problem,” Woojin says. _Of course you stupid little rich brat,_ he thinks, _you’re not the one driving._ He peeks in at the chauffeur. “Right?”

The chauffeur shrugs non-committally. _He’s not being paid to put up with my bullshit, but then again, he kind of_ is _._

_Sucks to be him._

“Go on, Chan, you can’t miss your game.” Chan’s mom prods. “We’ll stay here with Dad.”

Woojin shifts on his feet, looking at Chan’s little siblings, whose cheeks are getting pink from the heat.

“No, all of you go,” Chan’s dad says, following Woojin’s line of sight. “I’ll be fine here.”

“But Dad-”

“Bang Chan, go.” Chan’s dad gives Chan’s mom a pointed look. “I’ll text you when the towers arrive.”

Chan’s shoulders slump obediently. He turns to Woojin for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, but Woojin gestures at the open door, hard.

“Okay, everyone, pile in.” Chan’s mom says, herding the kids into the back seat.

Woojin hadn’t realized that there wasn’t enough space for all of them in the back – he’s an only child, his brain’s not wired to count lots of little people – but he’d feel like an asshole taking shotgun while the Bang family crowded in the back, so he’s standing there shifting from foot to foot like an idiot.

“Mama, you can sit in front,” Chan offers, saving Woojin from further embarrassment.

“Bang Chan, are you calling me fat?”

Chan’s entire face flushes cherry red. “ _Mama_.”

“I’m joking,” Chan’s mother laughs, pinching her son on the cheek. She pats Woojin on his, so suddenly that Woojin flinches and she laughs again. “Thank you for taking all of us, I know we’re a handful.”

“Two hands full.” Woojin says before he can stop himself.

Chan’s mother laughs as she climbs into the front seat. Woojin doesn’t want to be mean to a woman who had clearly been through a _lot_ , but the car sinks a few inches when she climbs in.

“Woojin,” Chan pulls Woojin in by the wrist. “Can’t leave you behind, can we?”

Woojin stumbles into the car, closing the door behind him without realizing it would hit him in the ass. He’s never been this squished into a car before, and honestly, he’d hate it if it were anyone else’s body shoved up against his.

“Sorry, Woojin, but could you hold onto my brother?” Chan asks, plopping the toddler in Woojin’s cramped lap before the latter can do anything.

Woojin puts his arms gingerly around Chan’s brother, trying to mimic a seatbelt as best as he can.

“Where to, sir?” The chauffeur asks Woojin, glaring in the rearview mirror as if to say, _why have you invited this_ litter _of people who smell like fried pork and beans into the car I clean every damn day?_

“Um, Chan?” Woojin turns to ask Chan, forgetting how close they were to each other.

When Chan turns to reply, he’s close enough that Woojin can feel the warmth of his breath against his own lips. “Uh, Woollim High School.”

Woojin turns his face to the window, suddenly unable to breathe. _This was a bad idea. Screw the angels at the pearly gates, I’ll take hell over this._

“Woollim High School, sir?” The chauffeur confirms.

“Yes, thank you.”

Woojin’s not ready for the way Chan’s arm instinctively swings over his brother when the car starts driving. _He’s just trying to protect his baby brother, you loser,_ Woojin reminds himself. Still, Chan’s makeshift seat belt arm ends at his hand, which is resting lazily on Woojin’s right thigh.

“Hey, Woojin?” Chan asks, turning to him again.

“Uh-huh?” Woojin leans away, his head bonking violently into the window.

“Are you okay?” asks Chan’s older younger sister – the eldest, oh no, the _elder_ of Chan’s younger sisters. Woojin’s brain is starting to hurt from the sheer number of siblings Chan has.

“Yes, yeah, don’t worry about me.”

 

“You sure this is okay?” Chan asks in a very soft voice. He still can’t believe Woojin’s doing this for him. _For your family, Chan, it’s for your whole family, not just you._

Still, Chan can’t stop smiling.

“Yeah.” Woojin grumbles – but then again, when does he not? “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, Woojin, I really owe you one. Big time.” Chan pats Woojin on the thigh with the hand he has over his little brother.

“No, it’s fine.” Woojin says, edging away from Chan. “Could you um…”

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to squish you in there.” Chan doesn’t know whether to pull his hand back or not, so he keeps his arm across his little brother’s chest but lifts his hand so it’s hovering a few inches off Woojin’s leg. “Is that better?”

Woojin’s still turned to the window. “Yes.”

 

Woojin heaves out the longest sigh he’s heaved in a long while when the car finally pulls up at Woollim High School. He knows, from his watch, that it’d only been around twenty minutes, but it had felt like hours. His body feels a bit sore from being caught between Chan and the door and under a hyperactive toddler.

_Thank god my parents never bothered to give me any siblings,_ Woojin sighs, but he feels just a little ache in his chest while Chan helps his siblings down from the car one by one with more care and kindness than the house staff takes with Woojin’s mom’s bone china.

“Thank you so much… Woojin, is it?” Chan’s mom asks, leaning in to the back seat.

“Yes ma’am.” _Ma’am? What the hell?_

“You’re too sweet,” Chan’s mom pats him on the cheek again, but he doesn’t jerk away this time. Woojin actually kind of likes it.

Then the minute she steps away, Chan goes in for a hug. “Thank you so much, man, I really owe you one.”

“You…really… don’t.” Woojin says, trying to squirm out of the hug without being rude.

“Anything you need, just ask me, I’ll do it.” Chan says, looking Woojin in the eyes with an uncalled-for amount of intensity for _one_ twenty-minute lift. _You make it seem like I saved your life or something._

“Uh…sure.” Woojin says, dazed. “G- Good luck on your game.”

“Thanks. If there’s still a game for me to get to,” Chan chuckles.

“I hope there is.” Woojin says. _Or my suffering for the past twenty minutes won’t have been worth it._

Woojin asks the chauffeur to wait a moment, even when the chauffeur points out that Woojin’s late for his cram school session. Woojin doesn’t really care at this point. He watches Chan kiss his mother and all his siblings before running onto the field, only to be tackled by his entire team. Even their coach comes over and ruffles Chan’s hair before giving him a glove.

Woojin wonders if his team would do that if he ever got back to Team A. _Probably not. Team B seems to like me more._ But not so deep down inside, Woojin knows that Team B just like winning over Team A for a change, in any way they can.

“Sir, your parents _will_ find out if you skip your class today.” The chauffeur says, with a little sniff. The pork and beans-y smell is still hanging around the car.

“Yeah, we can go now,” Woojin says. “Thanks for making this detour.”

“Of course, sir.”

 

_“I don’t like that look.” Woojin had said, noticing the furrow of Jihyo’s brows as she sat at the edge of his bed, swinging her legs so her heels bumped obnoxiously into the foot of his bed._

_“What, prettiness?” Jihyo had asked, framing her face with her hands._

_“You know what I mean.” Woojin had shot her an accusatory glance. “What are you up to?”_

_“I’m going to get you back in Team A.” Jihyo had said firmly._

_“What are you up to?”_

_“Don’t worry about it, Woojin. Leave it to me.” Jihyo had said, resting one foot on Woojin’s knee. “You_ are _getting back in Team A, and those scholarship guys_ are _going to notice the_ hell _out of you, and we_ are _going to the same university, whether you like it or not.”_

Whether I like it or not, _Woojin couldn’t help but smile then._ Jihyo would chain us together by the ankles if she could.

_Woojin had fixed his friend with a hard stare. “You’d better leave Jeongin out of this, okay?”_

_“Of course,” Jihyo had crossed her fingers in a gradeschool kind of promise. Then she smirks. “What do you think he’d do if I asked him out?”_

_“Leave him alone!” Woojin had laughed so hard at the idea that his ribs hurt, on top of everything else. “He’d probably_ die _!”_

_“Cut him some slack, Woojin,” Jihyo had given him a playlful kick in the arm. “Maybe he’s not as innocent as he looks.”_

_“Jeongin would drop dead on the spot if you hugged him, and you know it.”_

_“Poor, sweet baby.” Jihyo had laughed so hard that she’d fallen off the bed._


	25. “It’s like he’s got ears at the back of his head” – Lee Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are we allowed to do that?” Jisung asks. 
> 
> “Maybe, maybe not. Either way,” Jinyoung waves a hand off dismissively. “This ump probably wouldn’t even notice if we stabbed him with a kitchen knife.”
> 
> Felix makes a face. “Why do you have to be so _violent_?”
> 
> Jisung picks up the bat and the helmet. “Are you sure, Coach?”
> 
> “Not really, just go and if someone stops you, let me do the talking.” Jinyoung gives Jisung a friendly push on the back. “Go get em, Tiger.”
> 
> “I think Jisung’s more of a rabbit.” Felix says. 
> 
> “Squirrel?” Chan suggests.
> 
> “ _Rat_.” Changbin says, groaning as he stretches his legs out on the bench.

Changbin’s ass is killing him. He’s only tried playing catcher once or twice, and in those joking, half-assed games, not _real_ matches.

_This is what you get for wanting more responsibility._

_You get a literal pain in the ass._

“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Changbin waves his glove up to stop Chan from pitching. He stands up for a while, his hamstrings ablaze like a fancy Christmas ham flambe as he does. “Son of ten bitches, that _burns_.”

“Dude.” The batter from the Wolves mutters, lowering the bat in irritation.

“ _You_ try doing an I-need-to-shit squat for like half a fucking hour straight.” Changbin grumbles at him.

“I do.” The batter sighs. “I’m our team’s catcher.”

“Oh.” Changbin lowers himself gently back into a squat of shame. “Good on you, then. Keep on keeping on, dude.”

“Whatever.” The batter lifts his bat and turns back to Chan, who looks worried.

Chan makes the universal gesture for substitution, which is him spinning one hand around in a wild motion and mouthing, ‘HEY CHANGBIN, YOU WANNA SWITCH?’

‘NO THANKS I’M GOOD,’ Changbin mouths back, putting both his arms in a big X.

“Can’t they get any penalties for this?” The batter whines at the umpire, who’d been busy doing absolutely nothing.

The umpire just shrugs.

“Bleeehhh,” Changbin grins and sticks his tongue out at the Wolves’ batter.

The batter huffs and kicks up some dirt as he settles into position.

Changbin coughs on the dust, blinking hard to get it out of his eyes.

“Hey!” Chan shouts from the mound. “That’s not nice!”

The Wolves’ batter sighs. “Can you just throw the goddamn ball? _Please_?”

“Not until you say sorry to Changbin!”

The umpire decides to intervene then, blowing his whistle cryptically.

Jinyoung cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Throw the damn ball, Captain!”

“Okay, Coach!”

The Wolves’ batter rolls his eyes so hard he actually misses on his swing.

The umpire scratches his nose before calling, “Strike.”

“Hah!” Changbin grins.

The Wolves’ batter starts counting under his breath.

For all his counting, he miscalculates Chan’s pitch.

“Um…” The umpire picks at something in his nose. “Strike.”

“God.” The Wolves’ batter looks heavenward for help.

Changbin’s used to having this kind of effect on people. “You wanna bet-”

“Please shut up.” The Wolves’ batter begs. “Please. I will do _anything_.”

“Uh…” Changbin holds his glove up while he thinks, surprised when a baseball finds its way into it.

The Wolves’ batter groans and starts back for his dugout even before the lazy umpire calls him out.

“I was gonna ask you to get a strike but like,” Changbin shrugs. “You did.”

 

“Coach,” Chan says, as they switch at the bottom half of the fourth inning.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Changbin can’t walk.”

Changbin, as if on cue, comes limping into the dugout. Despite being the nearest to it, he gets there last, hobbling like he’s on two peg legs.

“Good god.” Jinyoung helps him onto the bench. “Is it cramping?”

“No, actually,” Changbin’s expression is serene as he turns to the coach. “I don’t feel _anything_.”

“Oh no,” Felix gasps. “He’s _paralyzed_.”

“No, he just needs to sit for some time. We’ll skip him in the lineup for now,” Jinyoung pats Changbin on the shoulder. “Jisung, you take his place.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” Jisung asks.

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way,” Jinyoung waves a hand off dismissively. “This ump probably wouldn’t even notice if we stabbed him with a kitchen knife.”

Felix makes a face. “Why do you have to be so _violent_?”

Jisung picks up the bat and the helmet. “Are you sure, Coach?”

“Not really, just go and if someone stops you, let me do the talking.” Jinyoung gives Jisung a friendly push on the back. “Go get em, Tiger.”

“I think Jisung’s more of a rabbit.” Felix says.

“Squirrel?” Chan suggests.

“ _Rat._ ” Changbin says, groaning as he stretches his legs out on the bench.

 

Changbin feels better by the seventh inning, and finds himself standing in front of the Wolves’ catcher, at bat.

“How are your legs doing?” The Wolves’ catcher asks.

Changbin’s surprised by the sudden friendliness, so he says, “I’m doing better, thanks.”

And he misses the pitch.

“Strike.” The umpire says eventually.

“Dammit.” Changbin mutters under his breath, steadying himself on his aching legs for another go. “Wish me luck,” He asks the catcher.

“You didn’t wish me luck.” The catcher mutters.

“Good luck.” Changbin says, in general.

He swings and hits the ball, but it flies out to his left, only missing his teammates because of the bright green safety net. They still shriek and scramble out of the way. Changbin grimaces while the Wolves’ catcher chuckles.

“Good luck,” He tells Changbin.

“Thanks.” Changbin nods. “You too.”

“You guys sure need it.” The Wolves’ catcher says, after Changbin misses another ball.

The umpire’s still scratching his ass when he garbles, “Strrrike.”

Changbin manages to hit the ball the next time, but it bounces a few times on the ground and gets to first base before he does – _In my defense, the ball’s legs aren’t in pain… It doesn’t even HAVE legs._

“It’s okay, good try, Changbin,” Their coach says, clapping Changbin a little roughly on the back. Changbin feels is lungs fly forward and ram into his ribs. _Coach is so strong I don’t see how anyone survives pissing him off._

 _“_ Th- thanks, Coach,” Changbin coughs out as he settles down onto the bench. He turns to Jisung. “What’s the score?”

“14-10.”

“In favor of us?” Changbin’s never been good at keeping score. The math is fine with him, but the _remembering_ … His brain has around 24 KB in it, probably.

“Nah. Them.” Is all Jisung manage to say before he jumps up screaming, “NICE ONE, CAP!”

“NICE ASS!” One of the other Weevils shouts as Chan dashes to first.

Changbin leans back against the fence behind them. He starts doing the math. With two outs and their only reliable hitters – Jisung and Chan – already out or on the field, the likelihood that they’ll get at least four more points in this inning is… Changbin’s almost done running the numbers in his head when their next batter strikes out.

 _Zero,_ Changbin’s shoulders slump a little. _The chances are zero._

“Good job, guys, we kept it close till the end,” Chan says, and Changbin can see why Chan’s struggling with math. “We just need to keep up our energy better next time, be a little more consistent-”

“And we need Hyunjin.” One of the older Weevils says, earning a few mutters of agreement.

 _He’s right, though,_ Changbin thinks. _Hyunjin’s always backed up against the wall like a weird painting, but we’re crappy without him. And no one else can squat for that long. Except maybe Cap…_ Changbin looks over at their Captain, who’d played pretty good catcher to Jisung’s less-than-passable pitcher for the rest of the game. And Jisung, even if he’s one of the worst pitchers ever (probably), he still tries. And he’s probably their best runner anyway, he steals bases like a god.

Changbin’s wonders if the others see him that way, too. _Would they miss me if I missed a game?_

_It’s pretty embarrassing that all these younger guys are indispensable and I’m going to be a senior next year that’s totally dispensable. Is that word? Dispensable? Like soap?_

Changbin gets lost thinking about soap dispensers that he forgets to feel bad about himself.

 

“Hey, Changbin,” Their Coach pats him on the back again with that hand of steel. Changbin lurches forward, but at least he doesn’t choke or cough.

“Yes, Coach?”

“You want a lift home? So you don’t have to take the bus?”

“Uh.” Changbin wonders if Jisung’s getting a lift from their coach, too, because he doesn’t want to be stuck alone with a car with old Steel Hands here.

“Who else needs a lift home?” Jinyoung calls out.

Half the hands in the team shoot up.

“Guys.” Jinyoung crosses his arm. “Have you _seen_ my car? It’s a shopping cart with a fucking engine. I can only take one more.”

“Me! Me! Me!” Jisung’s jumping up and down. How he still has this much energy after a game, no one knows. “We’re neighbors, Coach, you gotta pick me-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, pipe down,” Jinyoung says. “The rest of you, take care taking the bus. If someone doesn’t show up on Monday in one piece, I am going to kill-”

Changbin thinks about their coach’s glorified shopping cart of a car. “Wait a sec, Coach, don’t you have one more space?”

Their coach stops then, and then realization dawns on him in a slightly sour, slightly guilty expression. “Right. Who else needs a ride? You, I don’t trust you with public transportation. Yes, you, Felix, get over here.”

Changbin, Felix, and Jisung find themselves trudging after their coach, who’s storming over to his car in what looks like a Bad Mood.

“You think he’s mad that we lost?” Felix asks in a low whisper.

“No, he’s not like that,” Jisung whispers back. “I think.”

“It’s probably got something to do with his brother.” Changbin whispers.

“What happened to him?”

“Cap said he was sick, but I dunno.”

“Maybe we can ask Coach.”

“You know I can hear everything you’re saying?” Their coach calls out to them without even turning around.

Changbin, Felix, and Jisung freeze guiltily.

“Holy shit,” Felix says in a low voice. “It’s like he’s got ears at the back of his head.”

 

Jisung drums his fingers on his knees to the beat of a song he can’t remember the name of. He’s got to do _something_ to pass the time, and since he’s the one who’d ended up riding shotgun, he’s the one who’s suffering the most from the weird mood that’s gotten into their coach.

Felix and Changbin have been in the backseat, twiddling their thumbs in uncharacteristic silence for the past half hour.

 _Me on the other hand…_ Jisung’s itching for conversation, but to bother their coach when he’s looking like _this_ is just suicidal.

_God damn it._

“Hey Coach?” Jisung asks, his need to talk outweighing his instinct for self-preservation, as it always does.

“What?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Changbin chokes on thin air, and Felix braces himself against the seat.

“Pardon?” Their coach asks, hitting the brakes a bit heavily at a stoplight.

“I was just wondering,” Jisung presses on, ignoring the panicked head-chopping, _cut it OUT_ motions from Changbin and Felix in the backseat. “If you were seeing someone?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” Jisung leans back in his seat and drums his fingers on his knee again. “You know, my aunt’s single and-”

“I’m not going out with your aunt.”

Jisung was just born without knowing when to quit. “Her brother’s single, too-”

“Jisung.” Their coach says sternly, stepping on the brakes so hard that Changbin and Felix fly into the seats in front of them. Jisung has to slam his hands on the dashboard to keep himself from smacking his face into it. “Do I look like someone who cannot find a date on their own to you?”

“Um…” Jisung could say yes, which would be stupid, but he’d have to be lying to say no. “It’s not that-”

“I’m perfectly capable of going out and dating around,” Their coach says, like he’s talking about catching some kind of disease. “But I’m single because I would rather not waste large sections of my time with someone that I could do perfectly fine without.”

Jisung sinks back into his seat. _Well that’s the end of that, I guess._

“Hey Coach?” Felix asks from the back seat.

Their coach keeps looking dead ahead, mostly at the road but kind of at nothing at all. “Yes?”

“Is coaching us a waste of your time?”

Unsurprisingly, their coach never answers Felix’s question.

 

“Hyunjin?” Jinyoung knocks on the door to his brother’s room. “Hey, Hyunjin?”

When no sound comes from inside the room, he knocks again. “Hyunjin?”

He has half a mind to try the doornknob, but he decides he’d rather not barge in on his brother like that. It’s the last thing Jinyoung would’ve wanted, in his place.

“Hyunjin.” Jinyoung knocks harder. “Have you had lunch?”

No reply.

Jinyoung presses his ear to the door, knocking again. “…Hyunjin?”

He can hear the electric fan whirring, but nothing else. _Maybe he fell asleep._ Jinyoung wraps his hand around the doorknob, giving it a tentative twist.

The door swings open without any effort.

“Hyunjin?” Jinyoung calls out softly, peeking inside.

The electric fan _is_ on, whirring away in the corner on its own. His brother’s blankets are a tangle – but then again, they always are – and the room is in a normal, teenage state of disarray. Everything is in its out-of-place, everything, that is, except the teenager who owns it all.

Jinyoung stands there in the doorway, not knowing what to do.

“Park Hyunjin!” He shouts, in the hopes that… _No, our house is too small for him to be hiding anywhere else. And why the fuck would he be hiding? He’s not five years old._

Jinyoung pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials his brother’s number. It’s the only number in his call history for the past half year or so, aside from a few calls to Mark.

 _Where the hell could he have_ gone _?_

There’s this low buzzing noise, then Hyunjin’s phone lights up from where it’s sitting on Hyunjin’s messy bed.

_Shit._

Jinyoung turns to go pace around the living room in a hardly contained panic. Then the front door swings open with a creak – Jinyoung hasn’t gotten around to greading the hinge lately – stopping Jinyoung in his tracks.

His brother locks the door behind him, sipping a milk tea placidly. He lowers the milk tea and mumbles, “Hi hyung,” before kicking his shoes off and trudging down the hall to his room in his socks.

Jinyoung is frozen to the spot, not sure whether he’s relieved or annoyed.


	26. 78 (and counting) Things I Like About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan puts his arm around Woojin’s shoulders. “You’re not an asshole.”
> 
> Woojin gives him a sharp look, one that says, _Seriously?_
> 
> “Okay, you’re kind of an asshole,” Chan shrugs. Then he puts his other arm around Woojin, pulling the latter into a bear hug. “But even assholes need hugs. _Especially_ assholes like you.”
> 
> “Stop it.” Woojin says, but he’s laughing into Chan’s shoulder.
> 
> “Never.” 
> 
> “Let me go!” Woojin laughs, trying to squirm out of Chan’s embrace.
> 
> “Make me!”
> 
> Woojin leans forward then and kisses Chan on the lower lip.

Chan’s week falls apart like one of his old shirts.

First a thread comes loose. _We lost the game last Saturday, no big deal. We’ve lost before. We’ve still got three wins, which is amazing._ That thread really doesn’t matter, so Chan just tugs it out until it snaps off. But things never end there. The thread must’ve been connected to something, because all of a sudden three threads are sticking out. Chan pulls on one, but it seems to wrinkle the whole thing, so he cuts it. _Failed another Math exam, ok. Failed another History exam, ok. Don’t know what the hell is going on in Economics or English classes, ok._ The shirt’s still holding together, so Chan throws it in the wash without worrying too much.

Then the next day he gets home from training to help his mother sort through the laundry. It’s slow going until his mom holds up a tattered white _thing_. “Is this yours?” She asks.

“Awww, come on,” Chan groans, taking the rag-formerly-known-as-his-shirt from her. That’s another shirt relegated to floor-mopping duty. Chan sighs and adds it to the pile.

“Don’t forget you’re filling in for me tomorrow.” His mom says as she tries to figure out which of her daughters owns the tiny Tweety Bird panties in her hands. “Have you told your coach?”

“Yeah, I have.” Chan folds his youngest brother’s shirts up into a neat pile. _Please don’t ask what he said about it._

“What did he say?”

“Uh…” Chan folds one of his sister’s dresses, finds one of the ruffles sticking out at an odd angle, then unfolds it and folds it again. “He wasn’t too happy about it.”

“Did you tell him it’s because your brother’s sick?”

“Yeah, he was understanding about that, Mama, he’s a decent person.” Chan nods enthusiastically. _That’s not what he was upset about._

_“Do you do that often?” The coach had asked._

_“Do what, Coach?”_

_“Fill in for your mom at work?”_

_“I don’t do it_ often _,” Chan had said._

_“So how long is the shift?” The coach had asked, though Chan hadn’t been sure why he was pressing on about it._

_“1 to 5 in the afternoon.”_

_Their coach had paused to catch a stray ball and throw it back to Jisung. “Think about where you’re throwing it_ before _you throw it!” He’d turned back to Chan then. “So you’re skipping school for this?”_

_“Oh, it’s fine, Coach, I’m not missing much,” Chan had explained. He’d just miss three lectures, though sometimes Chan felt like it didn’t really matter whether he was there or not anyway. He didn’t understand anything either way._

_“Still.” Their coach had closed his glove tensely. “School’s important.”_

_“I know.” Chan had agreed._ That’s the worst part.

_Their coach had made a weird face then. “Ugh, gross, what the hell am I saying? Go cut class all you like, I don’t care. But that shit bites you in the ass in the end.”_

_“I know.” Chan had laughed. “Thanks, Coach.”_

_“Yeah, whatever, go teach Jisung how to aim better or something.”_

 

Chan can hear his homeroom teacher scrambling after him in her chunky heels, but he’s a fit, teenage baseball player and she’s, well… _She’s thinner than most people her age._

“Mr. Bang! Bang Chan! Wait!”

“Sorry, Teacher, I have to go somewhere!” Chan shouts back down the hallway as he races for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“MR. BANG CHAN! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE-”

Chan lets the door to the school slam behind him as he keeps sprinting for the bus stop. He checks his watch. He has fifteen minutes to get to the shop, or he’ll miss the start of his mom’s shift.

 _I’m not really good at math, but… Scratch that, I suck at math. But I’m pretty sure that there’s no way I’m making it to the shop in fifteen minutes if the bus isn’t here yet,_ Chan thinks, frowning down the street, where the bus should be turning the corner any second now.

_Any minute now…_

_Any ten minutes now…_

_Screw it._ Chan turns the other way and starts running, his backpack and all his things bouncing around as he pounds down the sidewalk.

 

Woojin catches himself thinking about Chan again. At this point he doesn’t even flinch or blush up to his ears. _There’s no point in fighting it…_ He lets his eyes glaze over and stops listening to his Calculus teacher.

 _#78 Chan’s really sweet to his 1 million younger siblings,_ his subconscious continues on what seems to be a never-ending list.

_Yeah, but that’s because their mom was around. He might be a real asshole to them when his mom’s not around._

His subconscious clicks its tongue and wags its head at him. _Silly Woojin, you know that’s not true._

 _It’s not like I even know the guy,_ Woojin tries reasoning with it, though he knows it’s a losing battle. _I’ve spoken to him only twice… No, wait, I spoke to him an awful lot during training camp. And in between games and stuff – do those count?_

Woojin realizes it’s been months since he accidentally held the other captain’s hand in the cinema.

His ears turn cherry red at that.

“Kim Woojin.”

Woojin realizes that his entire class is staring at him – well, the ones who are paying attention. It dawns on him that his Calculus teacher must’ve called him. _Oh right, he did._

“Yes, sir?” Woojin replies, almost a minute too late.

“Can you answer the question on the board?”

“Oh, uh,” Woojin squints at the board. “tan-1 of x… plus 12… uh… I mean, minus 12 cos-1 of x…” Woojin frowns. “Plus c. Yeah. There’s a plus c at the end.”

His calculus teacher frowns. “Come again?”

“tan-1(x) - 12cos-1(x) + c.” Woojin says, with as much false confidence as he can muster.

His teacher’s frown deepens as he checks his answer key. “Are you sure?”

“Um…” Woojin stares at the board again. _Yeah? One over one plus x squared’s got to be tan -1… Right? And nothing should happen to the 12 on top of the other thing, and the square root with that thing is… Okay, no I’m sure I’m right. _“Yes, sir.”

“Anyone else care to try?”

_Goddammit._

“Yes, Jihyo?”

Jihyo’s voice rings out clear as a bell from the back of the classroom. “tan-1(x) + 12sin-1(x) + c.”

“Correct.”

Woojin writes it out in his mind and raises his hand before he’s even done working it out.

“What is it, Woojin?”

“The derivative of cos-1(x) is just the negative of the derivative of sin-1(x), right?” Woojin says. “So -12cos-1(x) is right, too? Right?”

“Saying you’re right many times doesn’t make you right, Woojin.” Their teacher chuckles. Then he sighs as he sees a hand shoot up at the back of the classroom. “Yes, Jihyo?”

Jihyo hefts their calculus book up over her head. “Woojin’s right, Teach, it’s the same but negative.”

Their teacher sighs. “If it’s negative, then it’s not the same.”

“But his answer’s right!”

Woojin sinks in his seat, feeling all the funny looks his classmates are giving him.

“I’ll look into it,” Their teacher groans when he sees the hands on the clock five minutes away from the end of class. “I’ll dismiss you early today, do the next twenty-five numbers as homework for tomorrow.”

The rest of the class groans, kind of like an echo.

Woojin packs his things away and stops by Jihyo’s desk on his way out of the classroom. “You don’t have to do that all the time, you know.”

“Do what?” Jihyo asks innocently.

“That… thing you do.”

“Standing up for my bestie?”

“Don’t call me that.” Woojin says. “And I don’t need you to stand up for me. Don’t you have enough to worry about?”

“Oh, right!” Jihyo claps her hands. “Thanks for reminding me, I have to go somewhere.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “Exactly.”

“Bye, bes- I mean, _Woojinnie_!”

“Bye, Ji.” Woojin can feel his classmates staring at the back of his head. _Kim Woojin and Park Jihyo are dating,_ is the look they’re probably giving each other. He doesn’t know why it bothers him that people think that when it doesn’t really bother him when they say other things about him – _he’s a spoiled brat,_ for example.

 _Oh well. Not like I can stop them._ Woojin hikes his backpack up on his shoulder and starts out of the classroom. He’s got to conserve his energy for another helish training day with Team B and Coach Park.

 

Chan jumps when the bell above the shop door jingles.

“Hi, good afternoon,” He says on instinct, scrambling to close his math book and shove it and all his papers off the cashier counter.

He looks up to find a really _really_ pretty girl smiling at him.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order,” She says. “For Park Jihyo, please.”

“Park Jihyo. Got it.” Chan stows her name and face away in his memory, just because. He flips through the list of pre-orders and ducks into the back room to get hers. He heaves a huge bouquet of pink, red, and yellow flowers (Chan’s done probably a hundred shifts at this flower shop by now, but the names of flowers are just beyond him). “Could you, uh, check if it’s okay?”

“Oh, okay, sure,” Jihyo frowns at the bouquet like she has no idea what it is she’s supposed to be looking for. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

Chan scratches the back of his head. “Are they… the _right_ flowers?”

Jihyo’s entire face flushes as deep as the red-flowers-Chan-doesn’t-know-the-name-of. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea.”

“Oh.” Chan’s face flushes as deep as the other red flowers that are rounder and less… big.

“The nice lady yesterday said she’d put it together, and I guess she did, so…” Jihyo laughs, and Chan’s stomach seems to tickle slightly, like he’d driven over a speed bump. “Whatever they are, I think they’re fine, is what I’m saying.”

“Oh. Okay.” Chan reaches for the preorder list, but his elbow knocks his math book to the floor. “Shit.”

“I got it,” Jihyo says, bending over to pick up the book. She flips it over and frowns at it. “You’re in high school?”

“Yeah, I’m a senior.” Chan says, swiping his papers up off the floor for fear that she’ll find out hwo dumb he is at math.

“And you work, too? That’s amazing,” Jihyo says, placing the textbook back on the counter with a solid pat. “What school do you go to?”

Chan knows that the uniform she’s wearing is S------ High’s, and that even if she might be nice about him being a working student, she’s still probably going to turn her nose up at W------ High.

_Why do you care what she thinks of you, Chan?_

“W------ High.” Chan says, stuffing the papers under his textbook.

“Oh, that’s just nearby,” Jihyo says, then she smacks herself lightly on the forehead. “Dumbass, of course it is, why else would you be _here_.”

Chan goes back to flipping through the pre-order list. “Anyway, um… the flowers are-”

“You’re a senior, right?” Jihyo’s sunny smile hasn’t disappeared, but she’s suddenly very serious about _something_.

“Um…yes.” Chan says, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Would you happen to know the captain of the baseball team?” Jihyo asks. “The guys’ baseball team. Of W-------- High.”

“Uh…” Chan looks down at the pre-order list. _Does she suspect me? WHAT OF???_ “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing,” Jihyo waves a hand dismissively before reaching into her wallet, which is shaped like a kitten. “Just tell him to watch his back, ‘cause if I ever see him, he’s going to get it from me.”

Chan’s forehead is sweating as he tells Jihyo how much she owes the shop. “He’s going to get… what?”

“I’d probably punch him in the face,” Jihyo says, before breaking out into a smile. “Yeah, tell him that. If Park Jihyo ever sees his bum ass she’s going to punch him _right_ in the face.”

Chan holds his nose instinctively, then accepts her money, hoping she doesn’t notice. “Thank you.”

“Thanks,” She says, before looking over at Chan’s papers on the counter. “Need help with your math homework?”

“Here’s your change, ma’am,” Chan says, holding the money out to her with both hands, bent over at a respectful angle. He wants her out of the store as soon as possible. It’s not that he’s afraid of her, it’s just that… he’s afraid of her and he doesn’t even know _why_ she’s so mad at him.

“Thank you so much,” Jihyo beams, reaching out so aggressively that Chan flinches away, but she’s just embracing the bouquet. “Sorry, I wasn’t able to get your name?”

Chan freezes. “Chaaa….angbin.”

“Changbin?”

“Seo Changbin.” Chan says confidently, even leaning one arm on the counter. “Yup.”

“Thank you, Changbin.” Jihyo beams. “Oh, and you might want to flip that formula so the unknowns are on top, not at the bottom.”

“Uh, thanks.” Chan waves as she leaves the shop, then immediately collapses into the nearest chair. He didn’t even sweat this much running all the way to the shop from school. _Why is she so scary? What did I ever do to her?_

Woojin lugs his feet up the stairs and into the front door.

“Hello, Mom,” He mutters as he passes the tearoom and hears the clinking of china. Coach Park had been really upset about Team B’s win the past weekend, so he’d tripled their drills. It was evening by the time he let them go, and Woojin walks into the house to find the household staff switching on all the lights.

_If it’s this late, why does Mom still have a guest?_

“Woojin, dear, come in for a snack?” His mother calls from inside the tearoom.

“Mom, I’m kind of…” Woojin looks down at the jersey that used to be white. _Caked in dirt? Downright filthy?_ “I’ll just take a shower and be down with you in a short while, Mo-”

The door to the tearoom swings open. “Woojin!”

Woojin grimaces. Perhaps he’s had enough of Jihyo to last him a lifetime. _Perhaps_.

“Hi, Ji.” Woojin stops at the doorway and notices the giant bouquet in a vase on the tearoom table. It doesn’t go with the color scheme of the rest of the house’s floral arrangements, which today is a pale spring green and white. _What the hell is she playing at?_

“Have you seen? Jihyo-dear brought these lovely zinnias,” Woojin’s mom says, gently caressing one of the pinkish flowers with one hand.

“Zinnias, yeah.” Jihyo echoes nervously, like someone attending the service of the wrong church.

“They’re nice.” Woojin says through clenched teeth. “Mom, could I borrow Jihyo for a minute?”

“I thought you were going to take a shower.” Jihyo says through clenched teeth.

“I will, _later_.” Woojin replies through clenched teeth. “Come on, Ji.”

When they’re far enough down the hallway that the marble won’t bounce their entire conversation back to Woojin’s mother, he nudges Jihyo as roughly as his sore body can handle.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“What does it look like? It looks like you’re trying to get me to marry you, 1800’s style, Jihyo, _I don’t know_.”

“ _1800’s style_ ,” Jihyo snorts. “Oh, you wish.”

Woojin grimaces. “I really don’t.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Jihyo laughs. “What are we going to do when our parents _make_ us get married, though?”

“What _can_ we do?” Woojin sighs. He nudges her with his foot, wincing from the pain of moving his leg a few inches. “Don’t change the subject. What are you doing here?”

“I’m getting your mom to file a complaint. So you can get back into Team A.”

“Jihyo…” Woojin rubs his temples. “Please… _stop_.”

“Why!” Jihyo crosses her arms.

“Why do you care which team I’m on?”

“Because- Because you deserve to be on Team A, and everyone knows it!” Jihyo shouts. “It’s just Coach Park who’s got some dumbass _grudge_ against you for some-”

“Look, I messed up, I got into a fight, that’s not right,” Woojin says sternly. “So I deserve to be punished.”

“This is too much for _one_ fight. One you didn’t even start!”

Woojin purses his lips. _Yes , I did. I was being a bitch. I didn’t give Chan any other option._

_It’s weird to think that there was a time I actually wanted to punch him in the face. How could anyone want to hit Chan?_

“When I see that guy I am really going to knock his lights out.” Jihyo says, cracking her knuckles pointedly.

“Please don’t.” Woojin says, and he means it.

“It’s all his fault!” Jihyo says. “You don’t deserve to just take the fall for-”

“He’s a good guy, okay?” Woojin grumbles. “He’s kind and responsible and sweet and it’s actually kind of annoying, but he didn’t really start the fight, _I_ did. So just leave him alone already.”

Woojin notices Jihyo looking up at him with a strange expression. “What?”

“Kim Woojin.” Jihyo’s mouth pulls up in one corner, which ripples out into a full-on smirk. “Do you _like_ him?”

 

Chan doesn’t even remember lying down, much less going to sleep. He’s so exhausted from work and school and making sure all his siblings are bathed, fed, brushed (well, their _teeth_ are brushed), and put to bed at their bedtme. He knows his math homework’s not done, though he made a lot of headway with the scary girl’s help.

Chan knows he’s dreaming, because the tarpaulin hanging from the bleachers says that he’s at the national championship for this year. _I love the guys, but there’s no way we’d ever get this far._

“You guys know what to do,” The coach in his dream says – it’s Hyunjin’s brother, but looking much happier and healthier than usual. His hair’s also shorter, not flapping over his eyes like it does in real life.

“Have fun?” Felix in the dream – the same Felix as always – asks.

“No, dude, _win_.” Jisung says.

“Winning is always good,” Their coach says. “But it’s more important that we have fun.”

Chan scoffs and walks off. Normally he’d stay in the huddle and say something to help their coach out, but he knows this is a dream and it doesn’t matter what he does, really. _Besides, Coach Park would_ never _say that. He’d probably ask me to slap him in the face if he ever says that._

Chan finds the opponent team in a huddle as well, except of one of their members, who’s entered a dark little hallway into the depths of the stadium.

“Hey,” Chan says, following him, though he’s not sure why. “Dude. Game’s about to start.”

“Dude!” Chan jogs to catch up, but the other guy is so far ahead, and this hallway doesn’t seem to end. “Game’s about to…”

The hallway suddenly vanishes from sight, and Chan finds himself in a dim locker room. “Um, dude?”

Chan walks through the dim locker room – it’s got a very horror movie vibe, and he _hates_ it. Scratch that, he can’t stand it. His knees are shaking as he finds a figure sitting on a bench, face in his hands.

_Oh hell no._

_Don’t go near him, Chan, don’t-_

“Hey, are you okay?” Chan rests a hand on the guy’s arm. It seems warm, at least. Not undead.

Woojin rubs his eyes on his underarmor and looks up. “Chan?”

“Hey,” Chan sits on the bench next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Shouldn’t you be with your team?” Woojin asks, turning away from Chan.

_Why’s he got to be difficult even in my dreams?_

“Shouldn’t you?” Chan asks right back.

Woojin huffs and pulls his feet up onto the bench, resting his chin on his knees.

“Come on, I was just teasing,” Chan flicks one of Woojin’s knees lightly. “Don’t cry, Woojin.”

Woojin dries his eyes roughly. “I’m not crying because of you.”

“Well, I seriously hope not.” Chan rests his head on Woojin’s shoulder, though he’s not sure why. _It’s a dream anyway, nothing matters._ “What’s wrong?”

Woojin turns to face Chan. “It’s my dad… and everyone.”

“Why?”

“They want me to…” Woojin trails off his face screwing up in the effort not to cry again. “I can’t lose, Chan.”

Chan doesn’t know what to say. _It really doesn’t matter!_ He tries telling himself, but too much of him seems wrapped up in the premise of this dream. “Don’t think about that, Woo-”

“How can I not?” Woojin snaps at him. “You think just because you say things like that, I’m just gonna suddenly _stop_ thinking about everything?”

“No.” Chan doesn’t know why Woojin has to make everything so difficult.

“Sorry.” Woojin buries his face in his knees. “Go away, you really make me feel like a real asshole around you.”

“Sorry.” Chan’s overwhelmed by this sudden urge to hug Woojin. _He needs it, he really does._

_Besides, nothing I do here matters anyway._

Chan puts his arm around Woojin’s shoulders. “You’re not an asshole.”

Woojin gives him a sharp look, one that says, _Seriously?_

“Okay, you’re kind of an asshole,” Chan shrugs. Then he puts his other arm around Woojin, pulling the latter into a bear hug. “But even assholes need hugs. _Especially_ assholes like you.”

“Stop it.” Woojin says, but he’s laughing into Chan’s shoulder.

“Never.”

“Let me go!” Woojin laughs, trying to squirm out of Chan’s embrace.

“Make me!”

Woojin leans forward then and kisses Chan on the lower lip. _He’s in my dream, though. So I’m the one who wants to kiss him? Is that it?_

Chan shrugs the thought off and kisses Dream Woojin back. He figures if he’s not going to get any game in real life, might as well take advantage of his dreams. _Right_?

Dream Woojin pushes Chan back on the bench, climbing on top of Chan to keep kissing him.

Chan turns his face to the side to catch some air. “Shouldn’t we get back to our teams or something?”

“Don’t you want this?” Woojin asks.

“Uh…” Chan can’ rightly say that he doesn’t feel weird about making out with someone in a dream that his own brain made up for him so it’s technically making out without the other person’s consent but he’s not really doing anything wrong if he’s just going with it and will the real Woojin out there really get hurt if Chan gets a few kisses out of Woojin in his dream?

“Dumbass.” Woojin laughs, nuzzling his nose into Chan’s neck. He presses his lips, soft and light against the sensitive skin of Chan’s neck and Chan decides it’s time to draw the line. Things are getting weird.

“Wait, I can’t do this.” Chan says, gently pushing the Not-Real Woojin off of him. “I’m sorry, Woojin.”

“Why?” The Woojin frowns, and it looks so real that Chan feels thrice as guilty. “Did I do something? What’s up?”

“This isn’t real,” Chan says sadly. “It’s not right.”

“But I _want_ -”

Chan walks away from the bench, towards the dark abyss just past the doorway. Everything dissolves away, leaving Woojin’s disappointed look last, but even that fades away into nothing.

Chan goes back to sleeping without remembering his dreams, the way he usually does.

 

Woojin laughs. “So let me get this straight, you bribed the school paper-”

“No, I cashed in some favors with my friend Dahyun at the school paper-”

“The _editor-in-chief_?”

“Yes.” Jihyo flips through her notebook. “Okay, what’s the integral of-”

“And you forced them to write propaganda about-”

“I gave her the idea to write an opinion article about you, that’s all.” Jihyo says. “It’s not my fault it’s been shared five thousand times.”

“Fi- Five _thousand_?”

Jihyo shrugs, but in that smug, fake-humble way people do when they know they’ve won. “Yeah, just five thousand shares, about twelve thousand likes, no big deal.”

“ _And_ you’ve gotten my parents to file a complaint against the school?” Woojin’s laughing now.

“Yes.”

“Remind me not to piss you off, Ji.” Woojin grins.

“Never piss me off.” Jihyo says. “Okay, what’s the integral of-”

“So are you going to the game on Saturday?”

“What? Why?”

“You’re doing all this shit to support me, but you won’t even watch a single game?” Woojin laughs. “Where’s the logic, Ji?”

“I won’t watch unless you’re back in Team A.” Jihyo says. “Besides, W------ High’s team has a game there, too. I might have to punch their captain’s face in.”

“Ji,” Woojin says, kicking her lightly under the table. “I told you to lay off. He’s a good guy.”

“Oh please,” Jihyo scoffs. “He gave you a black eye. How good can he be? You know who’s _really_ a good guy?”

Woojin sighs and closes his notebook. _Calculus is_ not _getting reviewed today_. “Who is?”

“This guy from W------- High I met at the flower shop I go to.”

“You mean the flower shop you go to to bribe my mother?” Woojin settles back in his seat, basking in the dirty look Jihyo’s giving him. “Kidding, whatever, go on. How unbelievably _good_ is this guy?”

“Well, first of all, he works, unlike your lazy ass.” Jihyo says. “And he’s doing it for his mom because she was taking care of his brother, who was sick, and now she caught it so he’s still filling in for her and I’ve been helping him with his math homework and he works so hard at it, he really does. He’s just so _good_ , okay?”

“Is he cute?” Woojin asks.

“Since when did you care about-” Jihyo breaks into a smile. “Yeah, he is.”

Woojin rests his chin in his hands. “What’s his name?”

“As if I’m telling you.” Jihyo scoffs. “You’d probably hunt him down and threaten him.”

“Yeah, probably.” Woojin nods. “If he hurts you in any way, I’m knocking his balls off with a titanium bat.”

“Graphic, but sweet of you, Woojinnie,” Jihyo tries to pinch Woojin’s cheek, but he jerks away faster than she can make a grab at him. “I think I’ll ask him out when I pick up your mom’s flowers this Friday. Wish me luck!”

“Wish _you_ luck?” Woojin rolls his eyes. “I’m the one with no prospects-”

“Maybe if you’d stop being such a chicken and just ask that dumbass captain out, you _would_.” Jihyo says.

“Maybe I will.” Woojin crosses his arms.

“Maybe he’ll feel bad about your black eye and say yes.”

“Maybe your dumb flower shop boy won’t accept your bribes.”

“Maybe you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Maybe you’re worse.”

Woojin and Jihyo grin at each other.

“Wanna bet on it?” Jihyo asks.

Woojin smirks. She knows his weakness, he knows it, too, but he’s going to fall for it again. “If flower shop boy says no, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“If that jerk captain says yes – Wait, seriously, Woojin? How hot is this guy? You can’t _possibly_ -”

“I’ll date whoever the fuck I want, Ji, you can’t stop me.” Woojin grumbles. “And I’ll have you know he’s _very_ hot. Washboard abs and everything.”

“I don’t even _want_ to know how you know that.” Jihyo’s eyeroll is so majestic Woojin wishes he could frame it. “Fine. If W------- High’s asshole captain goes out with you, I’ll buy you dinner.”

Woojin works things out in his mind. _That doesn’t seem fair. If I get a date, I get a date plus dinner from Ji, or I get nothing at all. Meanwhile Jihyo gets dinner either way…_

“Deal?” Jihyo puts a hand out to shake on it.

“This isn’t a fair deal,” Woojin says, for the sake of his pride. “But deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨✨✨✨✨🥂Congratulations to AO3 on the Hugo Award Nomination!!!🥂✨✨✨✨✨
> 
> i'm so proud of this beautiful dumpster


	27. Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thank you.” He says curtly.
> 
> Chan, not sure what’s happening, bows back. “Thank you.”
> 
> “You’re welcome.” The man in the suit bows again.
> 
> “Oh. Thank you.” Chan bows back, still unsure.
> 
> The man in the suit looks irritated, but still bows politely. “You’re. Welcome.”

Chan’s thinking about his dream the night before when the bell above the shop’s front door tinkles. _Imagine if we made it to the championship…_

“Hi!” A bright voice cuts into Chan’s thoughts.

“Oh, hi,” Chan starts flipping through the preorder list when he sees Jihyo. “You ordered a bouquet of….peeyonis?”

Jihyo’s face screws up into a very, very confused frown. “Pardon?”

“Peeyo…niyes?” Chan frowns down at the order. It’s printed, so he can read it, _technically_ , but it’s not making sense to him. “Peeyoniyees?”

Jihyo leans over the counter, squinting at the order form. Chan steps back in surprise at how close she gets to him. _She smells like watermelon. That’s_ so _cute._

“Pee…yo…nees?” Jihyo attempts, frowning down at her own order.

“You know what, I’ll just go get them, whatever they’re called.” Chan ducks into the storeroom. He comes back with a bouquet of big, round flowers that look to him like a kind of vegetable. Chan wonders what they taste like, and whether they can substitute for the lunch he hasn’t had.

“Thanks, they’re lovely as always,” Jihyo says, reaching into her wallet to pay Chan. “She’s going to love them.”

Chan accepts the money with a polite little bow and tucks it into the cash register. “I was just wondering – I mean, if you don’t mind – who do you buy all these flowers for?”

“Oh, for my future mother-in-law,” Jihyo says casually.

Chan’s brain wrinkles itself trying to figure out how someone his age (which she probably is) might be sure who she’s going to marry, then Chan figures she must be one of those rich kids who have arranged marriages. _Like in the dramas._

_Poor her, though, she doesn’t get to choose._

_Unless she happens to like the guy her family’s making her marry._

“She loves flowers. She has all the flowers in her house changed every other day.” Jihyo explains, opening her arms to attempt to pick up the giant bouquet.

“Do you need any help?” Chan offers, picking up the bouquet for her before she can answer. “I can carry it to your car.”

“Oh, sure,” Jihyo says, looking a bit embarrassed. “Thanks.”

Chan picks up the bouquet and holds the door open for her. She walks up to a shiny silver European car parks by the side of the street. _Yup, she’s probably one of those rich kids with arranged marriages._

A man in a suit seems to appear out of nowhere to open the back door for Jihyo. She makes a gesture towards Chan, and the man in the suit takes the flowers from him with a bow.

“Thank you.” He says curtly.

Chan, not sure what’s happening, bows back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The man in the suit bows again.

“Oh. Thank you.” Chan bows back, still unsure.

 The man in the suit looks irritated, but still bows politely. “You’re. Welcome.”

“Hey, Changbin,” Jihyo rolls down the window, saving them both from this endless spiral of niceties.

It still takes a moment for Chan to realize she’s talking to him. “Yeah?” He answers, too late.

“This is going to sound very weird,” Jihyo says, not looking worried about that in the least. “But would you want to go out sometime?”

Chan seems to have left his mind in the store. “…W- With you?”

“Yes. On a date.” Jihyo laughs. “With me.”

_Maybe I’ve fallen asleep on the counter and I’m dreaming again,_ Chan thinks. He doesn’t know why any watermelon-scented rich girls would bother with him in real life, so this must not be real life. _Right?_

“Um. Okay?” Chan says apprehensively.

“Great!” Jihyo grins. “Tomorrow sound good to you?”

“I have a game tomorrow.” Chan says, before he can catch himself. _Oh shit what if she – Wait a second, the_ real _Changbin’s part of the baseball team anyway. Besides, I never said anything about baseball. She might think I’m a soccer player. Or a professional Dota player._ Chan lets himself breathe again. “Tomorrow afternoon should be ok?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, perfect.” Jihyo’s typing it into her phone calendar, which looks packed with multicolored events and reminders. “Where?”

“Um…” Chan’s brain is really drawing nothing but blanks. He’s never been on a date, so he doesn’t know where people normally go. _Where’s Jisung when you need him?_ Chan’s mind, in its’ panic, jumps to the first thing it thinks of. “There’s this café nearish here… Lullaby Café, I think?”

Jihyo frowns as she keeps typing into her phone. “It doesn’t have a pin online.”

“It’s down this street, fourth left turn, then the first right turn…” Chan watches Jihyo’s eyes kind of glaze over as she listens. “You know what, we can meet here and walk there.”

“Perfect!” Jihyo smiles again. “Tomorrow at… 2pm?”

“2pm sounds good.”

“Could I have your number, in case I get lost?”

“Oh, of course. Here.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“See you.”

Chan walks back into the shop, and when the bell rings, it’s like he snaps out of a trance. It dawns on him that he has a date tomorrow with the prettiest girl he’s ever _seen_. He does quite like Jihyo, even if he’s only met her a few times and knows virtually nothing about her – _Should he be worried? Maybe?_ – but he finds it weird that he doesn’t feel that excited about it.

_School must really be getting you down, man,_ Chan tells himself as he settles back behind the counter to struggle with his math homework.

 

_The next day_

Woojin stands a little way away from the huddle. He still doesn’t feel like a member of Team B, even if and perhaps _because_ Assistant Coach Yoo keeps singling him out with her “best pitcher in the whole damn world” thing.

“GO GO GROWLING BEARS!” The most senior member of Team B shouts.

“GO GO GROWLING BEARS!” The rest of Team B echoes.

“Go. Go. Growling. Bears.” Woojin mutters along with them. He glances up at the stands, knowing that his parents won’t be there. They haven’t attended any of his games since he’d gotten demoted, as if the message hadn’t been clear enough to Woojin. _You’ve embarrassed us,_ they keep reminding him, in evry way they can think of.

“Hey Woojin! Surprise! I’m here!” Someone waves at Woojin from the very front of the bleachers. “Woooooooo go Woojin!”

Woojin ducks in embarrassment, pulling his cap lower over his head, but nothing can stop everyone from looking at him with amused looks. _Why does Jihyo have to be like this?_

 

Chan arrives to their game right on time, which, when you think about it, is _late_.

It’s a small miracle that the previous game had gone just a little overtime. From the muttering of the people leaving the stands, Chan picks up that the Bears’ pitcher had forced another inning out of the Eagles, eventually closing the game with a one-point difference. Chan smiles to himself. 

Sure enough, Woojin runs into him just as he’s about to join his team.

“Congrats,” Chan says, clapping him on the arm before realizing that was weird.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Woojin looks understandably flustered.

_STOP BEING WEIRD!_ A voice in Chan’s head screams at him.

Woojin pats Chan gingerly on the arm, his hand lingering on Chan’s fuchsia sleeve for an odd second too long. “Good luck on your game.”

Chan’s about to thank him when someone jumps the last three steps off the stands and barrels into Woojin.

“YEAAAAAH!” Jihyo shouts, squeezing Woojin’s arm in a mild kind of Indian burn. “That was fucking _awesome_ , dude!”

Chan freezes in his tracks. _Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me…_

Jihyo, being the sort of person that Chan makes her out to be, _does_ notice him. “Oh, hey, Changbin!”

“What?” A voice from behind Chan asks.

Chan shuts his eyes. The universe loves to conspire against him. That’s the only explanation. _Someone out there is getting a kick out of this_.

“ _Changbin_?” Woojin frowns at Chan.

“What’s going on?” The real Changbin asks, coming up from behind Chan.

“What?” Jihyo looks from Chan to the real Changbin.

Changbin looks nervously at Jihyo and immediately puts both his hands up. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

“Wait, what?” Jihyo makes a face. She points at Chan. “You’re Changbin, right?”

“No, I’m Changbin… I think.” Changbin says, pointing at himself slowly like hes’s no longer sure _who_ he is.

Woojin hasn’t looked away from Chan in all this time. “Chan?”

Chan wishes the red dust underfoot just swallow him whole.

“ _Chan_?” Jihyo’s voice cracks as she points at Chan. “ _He’s_ the Chan who gave you a black eye?”

“Yeah, what did you think he was?” Woojin’s lip twitches, like he’s not sure if he’s going to laugh or not.

“He told me his name was _Changbin_!” Jihyo throws her hands up, and Chan flinches.

“But…that’s… me…” Changbin says, still unsure.

Jihyo balls her hands into fists. “I was going to _go out_ with you! I can’t _believe-_ AAARGHHH!”

Chan stumbles backward until his back hits the wall of the stands. He’s never been more afraid for his life.

Then Woojin starts laughing. He laughs so hard that his knees buckle and he has to sit down on the dirt getting his white pants even redder than they already were.

“Stop that! Stop laughing!” Jihyo turns to kick him before turning back to Chan, her eyes ablaze with all the fury of a woman who’d been wronged. _Well, given the wrong name in a moment of weakness,_ Chan tries to reason it out, but he knows there’s no excusing himself from this mess. It’s all his.

Chan braces himself for the inevitable punches Jihyo looks ready to give. He closes his eyes.

“Hey! Let me go! Let me at him!” Jihyo’s voice squeaks out. Chan opens his eyes to find Woojin holding her back with both arms. “Let me _go_!”

“Go to your team,” Woojin says, still grinning as he nods towards the field. The rest of the Weevils have started to peeks over to see what the noise was about. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Chan mumbles, lowering his head in shame. He trudges away, Changbin close behind him.

“Yo, Cap, what the hell was that?” Jisung asks as soon as they come close enough for Jisung to shout. Which isn’t actually very close, so everyone in the stands hears him.

“Cap asked the Bears’ captain’s girlfriend out!” Changbin shouts back.

“I did _not_!” Chan protests, but it’s hopeless.

“HOLY SHIT, CAP!”

“YOU’RE MY IDOL!”

“WAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!”

“HOW PISSED IS THE BEARS’ CAPTAIN?”

“CAP, YOU’RE A LEGEND!”

 

Woojin gasps for air. He’s been laughing for so long that he’s forgotten to breathe.

“You’re such a bully.” Jihyo whines, kicking him in the shins with a chunky sandal. It _hurts_ , but Woojin’s having too much of a good time to complain.

“Come on, Ji, you have to admit this is fucking _hilarious_.” Woojin says between gasps for air.

“Bully.” Jihyo folds her arms, leaning back into her seat.

“I feel so vindicated,” Woojin grins, settling back against his own seat.

“Whatever.” Jihyo grumbles. “You owe me dinner.”

“Really? We’re not calling that off for the sake of your pride?”

“We’re not calling it off _for_ the sake of my pride.” Jihyo says, deflating like a week-old balloon. She stomps on the floor of Woojin’s car in exasperation. “And he was _so_ cute!”

“Tell me about it.” Woojin says, remembering the look of pure horror on Chan’s face when he’d seen Jihyo. He wishes he’d had the presence of mind to take a photo, that’s a photo Woojin would’ve cherished till the day he died.

“Oh whatever, Woojin, at least _I_ had the guts to ask him out.” Jihyo sticks her tongue out at him.

That gives Woojin an idea. He gently asks the chauffeur to stop.

“Did you forget something, sir?” The chauffeur asks.

“No – I mean, yeah.” Woojin’s already unclipping his seatbelt, earning weird looks from everyone else in the car. “Could you bring Miss Park home, please? I’ll find my own way home.”

“Woojin-!”

Woojin doesn’t let Jihyo finish that sentence. He’s already running out the door.

 

Jinyoung’s grinding his teeth again. His dentist’s going to throw a fit when he sees her again, but he can’t help it.

_“Just go out there and don’t forget the stuff I’m always telling you about,”_ Jinyoung had told the boys before the first inning. He’s deathly afraid of becoming the sort of coach who reminds their team about standings and pressures them with shit about the championship – He’s afraid of becoming the _other_ Coach Park, put simply – but he can’t help but think about the _possibilities_.

_If they win this one, we’re going to be tied for fourth place. Then they can win another time, and we’ll be in the semifinals._ Jinyoung’s sure he’s ground his molars to dust at this point. _And once we’re in the semifinals…_

_No. Stop thinking like that._ Jinyoung cups his hands around his mouth to cheer, “Go Jisung!”

Jisung slides to the home plate, earning their team a point. He winks in Jinyoung’s direction as he jogs back to the dugout.

“Good job, you show-off,” Jinyoung says affectionately, ruffling Jisung’s dusty hair. “Watch your elbows when you slide, you might break one if you drop too hard on them.”

“Sure thing, Coach.”

Jinyoung watches out of the corner of his eye as his brother steps up to bat. Jinyoung can’t help but sigh. It seems like everyone in the team’s gotten better since he arrived, except his brother. Hyunjin doesn’t play badly – he actually earns the team one or two points every now and then, and never seems to end up in any of those make-or-break, important situations. But he’s just so painfully _average_ that it’s getting on Jinyoung’s nerves. Jinyoung knows his brother can do better than average, and he knows Hyunjin knows it, too. _So why doesn’t he?_

Hyunjin waggles his butt a bit as he lifts the bat. His form, as always, looks perfect, but he misses the ball by a quarter of a second that would look like a mistake to anyone but Jinyoung.

“Strike!”

_He’s missing on purpose again,_ Jinyoung thinks, starting to get irriated. _No, calm down, maybe it was an honest mistake. You’re being too hard on him again._

Hyunjin swings at the second ball, perfect form again, but this time it connects just a fraction of a second too early, and the ball flies out to his left.

“Foul.”

_No, he’s definitely fucking this up on purpose,_ Jinyoung thinks as he watches his brother do that annoying little butt wiggle before the next pitch. His brother misses the ball so cleanly, so perfectly that the other team’s catcher seems surprised to have a ball in his glove.

Hyunjin trudges back to the dugout.

“Good try, Hyunjin,” Chan says, patting Hyunjin on the shoulder. “You almost had it that time.”

“Thanks.” Hyunjin doesn’t even look up at Jinyoung as he walks towards a seat on the bench.

Jinyoung wishes he could pat his brother on the shoulder like that, that he could be encouraging and _nice_ , but it’s hard to even think about being nice when he knows he’s being treated like a fool.

“Judge the ball,” Jinyoung reminds Felix, who’s struggling to get his helmet on straight. Jinyoung turns it for him, giving it a solid pat when it’s aligned with Felix’s nervous little face. “Don’t swing if it doesn’t look good.”

“Yes, Coach.” Felix says solemnly as he picks up the bat.

Felix steps up to the bat, taking a deep breath. Jinyoung finds himself gripping a nearby post so hard that his palm is starting to burn. _Am I praying? I guess I’m praying. For Felix._

Felix swings too early, and the ball pops up. Luckily, it ends up out of the diamond.

Jinyoung’s grinding his teeth again, trying to banish all thoughts of semifinals and championships, but it’s _hard_.

Felix takes another deep breath.

_This kid’s a headcase,_ Jinyoung thinks, before catching himself. _He’s just nervous. Let him be nervous. Everyone is._

Felix swings too late.

“Strike!”

_Please get it right this time,_ Jinyoung begs internally. He’s not even sure whether he’s actually asking any god in particular for help.

“GO FELIX!” Chan shouts from Jinyoung’s left.

“GO FELIX!”

“FUCK IT UP, FELIX!”

“DO IT FOR CHANGBIN!”

Changbin hits Jisung, who’d said that.

Felix’s face turns strawberry pink.

Jinyoung shoots a dirty look at Jisung. “Behave.” He says sternly.

“SorryCoachwilldo.” Jisung shrinks back into the bench.

Jinyoung looks back to find that the other team’s pitcher had released the ball while they’d been distracted. _FELIX!_

Felix swings, it’s a huge, strong motion as he swings the bat with all his might at the baseball hurtling towards him. The ball pings off the bat and flies almost directly upward.

Felix squints up at the ball, which, to him, has vanished into the sun.

“RUN, FELIX, RUN!” Chan shouts.

Jinyoung squints up at the ball. He’s not sure it’ll even land in the diamond, and undoubtedly, someone will be able to catch it, and then the game will be over and so will the Weevils’ chances at making it to the semifinals. But he shouts anyway. “RUN! FELIX! RUN!”

Felix starts running as fast as his spindly legs can carry him, arms flailing like an inflatable man outside an auto dealer.

“GOOOOOOOOOOOO FELIIIIIIIX!” Changbin yells, bending over from the effort of producing a foghorn amount of noise from his small frame.

The ball lands just a few inches from the other team’s catcher’s outstretched glove. It bounces on the dirt, escaping the catcher’s grasp a second, and a third time. Their pitcher is now shouting at him, along with their coach and everyone else in the dugout.

Meanwhile, Felix is still running for all he’s worth, rounding the corner for second.

The catcher plucks the ball off the dirt and throws it to the third baseman.

“STOP! FELIX!” Jinyoung shouts, hands cupped around his mouth. “BACK TO SECOND!”

Felix hesitates for a moment, then just as he turns to second, the ball overtakes him and smacks into the second baseman’s glove.

From Jinyoung’s view of things, Felix seems to just crumple into a heap on the ground. Jinyoung steps forward in concern. “Felix?”

Felix is tumbling, he realizes. He’s tumbling backwards like a gymnast, and it seems like the other team is too baffled to tap him out. _He’s actually pretty good,_ Jinyoung thinks as Felix keeps tumbling in a straight line. Felix makes it all the way to third base before the ball does.

The umpire gesture him as _safe_.

The other team’s coach curses loudly.

“GO FELIX!” Jinyoung shouts, not entirely sure what he’s just witnessed.

“FELIX! FELIX! FELIX! FELIX!” The rest of the Weevils scream and caw like wild animals.

 

Chan steps up to bat, reciting in his head, over and over again, _Get Felix home. Get Felix home. Get Felix home._

He takes a breath to settle his nerves. Felix is watching him from third with his eyes wide and bright against all the red dust on his face.

Chan doesn’t look at the stands, knowing his family’s not there. His brother’s still sick, and it looks like one of his sisters had caught the bug too, so they all stayed home.

Chan hadn’t realized how much he’d needed them there.

“GO CHAN!” A voice shouts from above the cheers of the other Weevils.

Chan looks up curiously.

His heart catches in his throat when he sees Woojin waving from the stands. _He doesn’t have any reason to still be here, so why…?_

_You know why, dumbass._

Chan lowers his gaze, clenching his teeth. His heart is hammering against his ribs as he steps up to the plate.

“Is that guy your boyfriend or something?” The catcher chuckles, hitching a thumb in Woojin’s general, noisy direction.

“No.” Chan says, lifting the bat and narrowing his eyes at the other team’s pitcher. His mouth curls into a smirk. “ _Not yet_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY WOOJIN pt 1


	28. “HRAAAAAAAAHHH!” – Lee Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their coach frowns. “What the hell is going on?”
> 
> “Chan moved in on the Bears’ captain’s girlfriend.” Hyunjin murmurs. 
> 
> “He did _what?_ ” Their coach directs his frown at Chan.
> 
> “I- It’s not like that!” Chan sputters out, trying to wriggle free of his teammates. “She asked me out and-”
> 
> “Woojin’s girlfriend asked you out?” Their coach’s frown dissipates into a shit-eating grin. “Holy-”
> 
> “No! She’s not- I mean, why would she ask me out if she were Woojin’s girlfriend-”
> 
> “Because you’re 1000 times better, duh.” Changbin says, arms tight around Chan.
> 
> “Dick.” Jisung adds helpfully.

“Good game.” Chan shakes hands with the other team’s captain, a guy so much taller and bigger than him that his hand feels like a baseball glove around Chan’s.

“See you next week.” The other captain says, but there’s nothing vaguely like sportsmanship in his voice. _He’d probably been expecting an easy win from the Weevils._

_Too bad for him._

“WE’RE GOING TO THE SEMIIIIIIS!” Jisung screams, attempting to climb onto Hyunjin’s shoulders, but he slides off like water off a duck’s back. Unlike water, he hits the dirt with a loud thud.

“No, no, calm the fuck down,” Their coach says, laughing as he helps Jisung up with one hand. “They’ve got a twice to beat advantage on us-”

“ _Twice_?” Jisung groans. “Why?”

“Because we started at the bottom, Jisung, obviously,” Their coach smiles at the team. “So we’re seeing them again next week. But that’s next week’s problem. Good job today, everyone.”

Chan notices the way their coach purposefully avoids looking at Hyunjin as he says that. _I’ve got to do something about that…_

“Hey, uh, Cap?” Hyunjoon prods Chan anxiously on the arm.

“Yeah?”

“The, uh… the Bears’ captain is looking for you.”

The rest of the team close in around Chan protectively.

“Oh hell no.” Jisung wraps his arms around Chan like an excessively affectionate bodyguard.

“Tell him to fuck off, he’s not getting anywhere _near_ Cap.” Changbin says, hugging Chan from the other side.

“I’ll _die_ for Cap.” Felix says gravely, hugging Chan from behind.

Their coach frowns. “What the hell is going on?”

“Chan moved in on the Bears’ captain’s girlfriend.” Hyunjin murmurs.

“He did _what_?” Their coach directs his frown at Chan.

“I- It’s not like that!” Chan sputters out, trying to wriggle free of his teammates. “She asked me out and-”

“Woojin’s girlfriend asked _you_ out?” Their coach’s frown dissipates into a shit-eating grin. “Holy-”

“No! She’s not- I mean, why would she ask me out if she were Woojin’s girlfriend-”

“Because you’re 1000 times better, duh.” Changbin says, arms tight around Chan.

“Dick.” Jisung adds helpfully.

“ _Guys!_ ” Chan gasps, scandalized, though he’s not sure why he’s still surprised at this point. He pouts at their coach. “It’s nothing like that! I swear!”

“Come on, guys, let him go,” Their coach chuckles, prying Jisung and Changbin and the rest of the team off without any difficulty. “Hi Woojin.”

The Weevils turn to find the Bears’ captain standing a little way off, but definitely near enough to overhear everything. His face is red to his ears as he says, “Hi.”

“You’re not getting our Captain!” Jisung clings to Chan again, lifting one leg to wrap around Chan’s thighs.

“You’ll have to get through us first!” Changbin balls his hands into fists as he steps in front of Chan.

“HRAAAAAAAAHHH!” Felix roars, assuming a pose that lets everyone know he could probably deliver a pretty decent spinning kick.

“I, uh,” The Bears’ captain looks worried, not for himself, but for the Weevils’ well-being and general sanity. “Could I borrow Chan for a minute? I just wanna talk.”

“Y- Yeah,” Chan shakes Jisung off and makes his way through the reluctant Weevils. “Sorry about them.”

“It’s okay.”

 

Woojin taps the backs of his cleats against the curb he and Chan are sitting on, in complete awkward silence.

He’s done it. He’s gotten Chan alone with him.

_What now?_

Chan’s been picking at a hangnail for the past few minutes.

Woojin looks over in mild interest. Chan’s fingernails are disgusting. They’re stubby and short and somehow still have dirt under them. _Come on, Woojin, don’t be an asshole, he just came from a game. Besides, Jihyo said he works at a flower shop, right? He_ must _have crappy fingerails._

Chan tugs on the hangnail, and it rips free, leaving behind a drop of blood that starts welling up. “Oh crap.”

“Wait.” Woojin says, reaching into his duffel bag and rummaging around. He pulls out a tiny first aid kit. When Woojin twists the cap off the antiseptic, Chan scoots away half a meter. “Dude. Stay still.”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

“No.”

Chan extends his hand slowly towards Woojin, who grabs it and starts dabbing some antiseptic on Chan’s wound. The antiseptic foams and bubbles, and Chan lets out a loud yelp, jerking away from Woojin.

“What the _hell_ , dude?” Chan whines, clutching his hand close to his chest with a big pout.

“Oh come on, it doesn’t hurt _that_ much.” Woojin rolls his eyes. “Come here so I can cover it.”

“No.” Chan scoots further down the curb.

“Chan, for fuck’s sake…” Woojin finds himself crawling down the sidewalk after him, band-aid in one hand. Chan keeps moving away, now doing a weird kind of backwards turtle-walk. _Does everyone in their team act like an alien???_

“No no no no – Oh crap.” Chan falls flat on his back when Woojin grabs his ankle out from under him.

“Stay. Still.” Woojin grumbles, sitting on Chan’s leg while he struggles to wrap a band-aid around Chan’s finger.

“Dude, you’re so heavy,” Chan whines, slapping Woojin on the thigh to get him off of his leg.

“It’s called being tall.” Woojin crumples up the band-aid’s wrapper and pockets it. “There.”

“Oh.” Chan looks at his finger like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Thanks.”

“No prob.” Woojin realizes _where_ he’s sitting and stands up in a panic. “Anyway, I’ve got to go.”

Chan sits up blowing his slightly-too-long hair out of his eyes. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Isn’t this talking?” Woojin grabs his duffel bag. “And now it’s over. See you around, Chan.”

“Hang on,” Chan scrambled to his feet and catches Woojin by the end of Woojin’s bag. “How are you getting home?”

“I’m uh…” Woojin frowns. He hadn’t thought of that. “That’s not your problem.”

“ _Woojin_ ,” Chan groans, giving Woojin’s bag a sharp tug. Woojin stumbles back a few steps.

“What?” Woojin asks irritably, jerk his bag out of Chan’s grip.

“Just answer me, how are you getting home?”

“Uh… Taxi.” Woojin says, straightening up to full height. _Yeah. Taxi seems like a good choice. I don’t know shit about buses or trains, and they can’t go near my house but a taxi can, right?_

“The nearest taxi stop is that way.” Chan jerks a thumb in the opposite direction.

“Oh.”

“Let’s go together?”

“No.” Woojin says quickly, before adding a small, “…thanks.”

“I don’t like riding taxis alone.” Chan says.

Woojin seriously doubts that. But he plays along, because he realizes being alone with Chan in the back of a taxi doesn’t sound _too_ bad. Especially since Woojin’s idea of taxis is just that – an idea.

“Fine.”

 

Chan would be lying if he didn’t notice the tense, formal way Woojin was sitting in the back of the cab. _Maybe that’s just the way he always sits. Maybe he just constantly looks like he’s got a stick up his ass._

Chan snorts.

Woojin shoots him a frown.

“Nothing.” Chan assures him. _You just look really cute when you’re uncomfortable._

Chan would be lying if he said _he_ wasn’t uncomfortable right now. It’s not Woojin’s fault – actually, he likes having Woojin around – it’s the taxi. Chan _doesn’t_ take taxis, because the meters always seem to tick up so quickly. The number’s getting close to Chan’s expenses in a whole _week,_ and he’s not sure how much further they need to go, and it’s giving him a bad case of wallet-induced anxiety. He’s not even sure where they’re going, since he’d let Woojin give _his_ address and Chan figured he’ll just find his way home from there, wherever that is.

Woojin shifts in his seat as they turn a corner, his expression turning even tenser at whatever it is outside the window.

Chan looks out the window for a change. The houses on either side of the street are getting bigger and bigger, and the street’s also gotten avenue-wide, but it’s just two lanes. Chan resists the urge to goggle-eye like a tourist, for fear that Woojin’s going to judge him.

_Oh it’s too late for that,_ Chan thinks.

“Uh, turn left here,” Woojin says, when the taxi driver stalls for a moment.

“Y- yes.” He hadn’t been lost, he had his GPS open the whole time. He’d just been gaping at the houses.

_Oh, same._ Chan watches the huge, high-walled houses crawl by, because it takes _forever_ to get past one of them.

The taxi eventually rolls to a stop in front of a tall stone wall that runs down an entire block.

“The gate’s on the other side.” Woojin explains, his ears turning a little pink.

“Oh.” The driver goes all the way down the block, then turns the corner. The stone wall is still going, uninterrupted, all the way to the next corner.

Chan glances at Woojin, who turns away from him guiltily.

They turn another left and follow the stone wall for another half block, until they hit a high gray gate with what look like sirens on either post.

“Is this it?” Chan asks.

“Yeah.” Woojin says, unclipping his seatbelt and picking up his bag.

The gate opens slowly, letting out a few burly men in black uniforms. Two of whom are carrying what look like automatic rifles.

“Woah, woah, woah, what the _hell_?” The taxi driver says, putting his hands up.

“Wooojinnnn,” Chan whimpers, sinking in his seat.

Woojin doesn’t seem fazed by the thuggish guys or their rifles. _Actually, he looks kind of annoyed_. Chan makes a mental note not to mess with Woojin again.

“Give me a minute.” Woojin steps out of the taxi and stomps over to the men, who, when he’s close to them, look twice his size in every direction.

Chan watches nervously. _Please let nothing happen to him._

 

“Do you _really_ have to bring those out every time? Where do you think we are? _America?_ You’re going to scare people,” Woojin grumbles, gesturing at their rifles.

“Sorry sir.” One of the security personnel swings his rifle behind him, his cheeks turning pink under his dark glasses.

“Your mother’s on the line.” Another of the personnel says, holding out a sleek black cell phone.

Woojin sighs and takes the phone from him. “Hello? Mom?”

“KIM WOOJIN! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”

“I just came home from a game-”

“The chauffeur said he couldn’t find you after the game! We were going to call the _police_!”

“There’s no need to overreact, Mo-”

“How did you get home?”

“Taxi.”

The sound his mother makes on the other end sounds like a strangled goose. “ _T- Taxi_? Do you _know_ what could happen to you in a taxi? Do you even – Oh, alright, Chairman-dear, I’ll give you the phone.”

Woojin braces himself for his father. He does it so often, but it never seems to be enough.

The other end crackles with static breathing.

“Father?” Woojin asks apprehensively.

The other end hangs up, leaving Woojin alone with the phone’s loud beeps.

He hands the phone back to the security personnel, hefts his bag up on his shoulder, and walks towards the house. He’d gotten the message. He wasn’t even worth his father’s words anymore.

Woojin slams the front door shut behind him, never mind the fractures he leaves in the glass. His father will pay for them to disappear, like the rest of his problems.

 

Chan watches the gate slide shut. He wonders who’d spoken to Woojin over that phone they’d handed him, and why it had made Woojin so upset. _Must be his parents._

Chan, being Chan, wants to help.

But he knows his place, and even if he hadn’t, the ten-foot-high stone wall and solid steel gate make it _very_ clear what Chan’s place is.

He looks up at the visibly shaken taxi driver through the rearview mirror, and the taxi driver looks back at him.

“Kind of rude of your friend to leave you without paying.” The taxi driver says.

“Oh. Right.” Chan glances at the taxi meter, which is reaching sky-high prices. He doesn’t have nearly that much on him. He looks back at the gate to Woojin’s house, if he can call it a _house_. Woojin’s definitely got enough to pay for the taxi a hundred times over, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s going in or out of that gate anytime soon. “Don’t sweat it, Uncle, I told him it was my treat today.”

The taxi driver gives Chan one long, judging look, but he doesn’t say anything else but, “So, where to?”

 

_A week later_

Woojin sighs. “You don’t have to follow me, you know.”

The chauffeur sighs back. “We’re both dead if you go missing.”

Woojin’s shoulders sag. As much as he wants to be rid of the chauffeur, he doesn’t want to _really_ be rid of him. The guy’s got to eat somehow.

Woojin shows the chauffeur to a nice seat at the stands where he can play Candy Crush without being too bothered by the game itself.

“Woojin!” Someone calls to him on his way down the bleachers.

Woojin stops and turns to find Jeongin’s parents waving at him. “Oh, hello.” He gives them a polite bow.

“Oh, come here,” Jeongin’s mom says, tugging him over to sit next to her. _Jeongin’s mom is_ strong _,_ Woojin notes in mild fear. “Are you back in Team A?”

“Honey,” Jeongin’s dad says in a low, warning voice.

“No, I’m not.” Woojin says, feeling worse than he ever has about the whole thing when Jeongin’s mom’s smile drops. He feels like he’s done some heinous crime, making Jeongin’s mom stop smiling. “We’re up against Team A today.”

“Oh.” Jeongin’s mom pales when she realizes what he _means_. She looks down at the field, where her son’s jumping around in between stretches. “Oh dear.”

Her husband puts an arm around her. “Well, either way, our school’s gonna win today, right?” He says with a weak smile.

Woojin reciprocates it with his own halfhearted smile. “Yeah.”

 

Jeongin looks up to check if his mom’s doing something embarrassing, and finds that she’s talking to Woojin. By the looks of it, Woojin’s telling her what Jeongin’s been avoiding telling her all week.

“How’s Woojin?” His mom would ask pretty much every other day. She likes Woojin a lot for some reason, but Jeongin doesn’t question it. He likes Woojin, too.

The thing is, Jeongin knows that she doesn’t know that Team B trains separately from Team A, so she also doesn’t know that Jeongin only sees Woojin during lunch. Even so, Woojin’s been focused on homework and reading school stuff during lunch lately, so Jeongin hasn’t gotten a decent conversation out of him. It’s usually just Jeongin working through his lunch in silence, pretty much watching Woojin stare at his textbook.

“Good.” Jeongin would tell her, just so he wouldn’t let his mom down.

Jeongin stretches his throwing arm in a windmill motion, watching Woojin drag his feet down the steps. Jeongin’s mom is left looking so upset that Jeongin just wants drop his glove and run up to give her a hug.

_I’m such a mama’s boy,_ Jeongin grumbles at himself, turning away. _It’s okay, Daddy’s there, he’ll fix things._

“Good luck, Team B!” Minho’s jeering at their school’s other team until Woojin rejoins them. Minho bows, suddenly acting all respectful.

_Minho’s really such an ass. Hole. Asshole._ Jeongin frowns at himself. He’s just _seen_ Woojin and he’s starting to get flustered. _I’m probably going to_ completely _forget how to pitch later._

Jeongin’s _not_ been flubbing his pitches on purpose, even though the student council president had expressly asked him to. He’s been doing his best, actually, because that’s what his mom had asked him to do. What’s he supposed to do, pick some other girl over his mom?

He’d been hoping that Team B wouldn’t make it this far. Of course Woojin’s the best pitcher in the entire league, but the rest of the team… _Eh, there’s a reason why they’re in Team B,_ Jeongin thinks, trying to be as kind as he can. Still, they’d managed to make it this far, and now Jeongin has to face his friend. It wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t been Woojin’s crappy _replacement._

Jeongin needs to sit down. He knows that game hasn’t even started yet, but he walks over to the bench and takes a seat.

A shadow falls over him. “Yang Jeongin.”

Jeongin doesn’t look up. “Yes, Coach?”

“Listen to me.” Coach Park says, his voice low and kind of scary.

Jeongin’s listening.

“Today’s game is very important for you.” Coach Park says. “I’m expecting you to do well.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“You don’t want to end up like your captain.”

Jeongin swallows. “Yes… Coach.”

 

Chan scrambles into the high school stadium half an hour late. He’s not late for his own game, which is up next after this one, but for the Bears’ game.

He hadn’t been able to talk to Woojin since last weekend – they don’t even have each other’s _numbers_ – but when he’d heard that the match before the Weevils’ second try for fourth was a Bears Team A vs Bears Team B one, Chan knew he had to be there.

He glances at the scoreboard, but it doesn’t help him at all. The board just says Bears on both spaces, and one Bears is leading over the other by five, whichever it is.

Chan finds an empty space to stand, because the Bears’ parents are notorious when it comes to filling the stands. _So considering this one’s a Bears vs Bears game, it makes sense that people are everywhere_ , Chan thinks, leaning against the base of the bleachers.

Jeongin’s pitching right now, and Woojin’s at bat.

Chan feels terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY WOOJIN pt 2


	29. Good Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We can see each other outside of games, you know.” 
> 
> Woojin lifts his eyebrows. “What?”
> 
> “I- I mean, we could text and call, like normal people do,” Chan’s face burns from the neck up. “We don’t have to keep running into each other by chance and stuff.”
> 
> “You want my number?”
> 
> Chan wishes Woojin wouldn’t put him on the spot like this. No one’s around to hear them, but it’s still embarrassing when he squeaks out, “Yes.”
> 
> Woojin extends a hand.  
> Chan stares at it.

Woojin looks at Jeongin and sighs. The kid’s hand is trembling as he grips the ball, spinning it anxiously in his hand.

_It’s okay, Jeongin,_ Woojin wishes he could tell the freshman. _Strike me out for all I care. I’d actually be pretty proud of you if you did that._

“Jeongin!” Minho hisses from behind Woojin.

Woojin shoots him a dirty look.

“Sorry, Cap.” Minho lowers his head. “He doesn’t usually stall like this is all.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure.” Woojin says. Of course he’d happened to be there, just on the other side of the bench when Coach Park had been threatening Jeongin. _Screw Coach Park. Seriously._

 

Jeongin’s getting dizzy. He looks at Woojin, then Minho, then at his mom in the bleachers, then at Coach Park, whose arms are crossed, then back to Minho, who’s making aggressive hand symbols that Jeongin no longer remembers the meanings of. It’s like he’s standing on a lazy susan and someone’s spinning him around and around and honestly, he feels like throwing up.

He winds up for a pitch. _Let’s just get this over with._

_Let’s just get everything over with._

Woojin sees the ball curve ever so slightly as it leaves Jeongin’s hand. _I’ve got time to be impressed later,_ he thinks. For now, he just swings.

The ball pings off the bat, ringing as clear as a bell. Woojin doesn’t stick around to see where the ball ends up. He just starts running.

He doesn’t know what’s happening around him, which is weird for him. Usually he’s aware where the ball is, where to go and where not to go, but this time he just shuts everything out and _runs_.

 

Jeongin shades his eyes with one hand as he watches the ball fly over the fence. _There it goes…_

 

Chan jumps up and down, screaming, “GO WOOJIN!”

 

Minho’s yelling at the top of his lungs when Woojin rounds the corner, jogging calmly over the home plate. He sticks a hand out for a high-five, which Woojin gives him with a wide smile.

 

Hyunjin knocks on the door to his brother’s room. It’s been less than a year since their parents left to work on a project in San Francisco, but he hardly thinks about them anymore, and their room is now almost completely Jinyoung’s. Hyunjin wonders if that makes them bad children, that they don’t really think about their parents much, or if their parents are bad parents for not checking in too often.

“Hyung?”

Hyunjin hears scuffling and a clatter from inside his brother’s room, but he doesn’t think about it or question it. He’d woken up in the middle of the night and heard voices from inside his brother’s room. _But that isn’t any of my business, is it?_

Hyunjin wonders if he should be more… _concerned_ about his brother’s life.

_But that would mean he’d have to bother_ me _more, too. So, no thanks._

The door opens a crack, and Hyunjin’s older brother peeks out. His eyes are puffed shut, his hair is sticking out in all directions, and his flannel pajamas have strawberries on them. “Wha?”

“We’re going to be late for the game today.” Hyunjin kind of gestures at the fuchsia and black uniform he’s wearing.

His brother stares at him for a very long moment. It’s as if Hyunjin can see _gears_ turning in his brother’s head.

“Oh.” Jinyoung says finally. “You’re going?”

Hyunjin chews on his inner cheek in embarrassment. “Yes.”

_Sorry about last week,_ is what he means to say, but as things go, he doesn’t.

“Okay.” His brother says. “Give me five minutes.”

 

“ _Sorry_ ,” Woojin mouths, as he gives the ball a slight curve downwards at the last minute. It brushes just past the top of Jeongin’s knee.

Jeongin, being Jeongin, had swung anyway. He’d missed the ball, and the umpire had called it a strike.

The kid frowns for a split second, then looks up at Woojin and gives him a wide grin and one thumbs up.

Woojin wonders if he could just let his game slip for once, whatever his game is. He’s not entirely sure _what_ he’d come out here to do today. _Do I want to beat Team A? Just to rub things into Coach Park’s face?_

A couple months ago, that’s exactly what Woojin would’ve done, but the Woojin of _now_ feels sick to his stomach at the idea.

_Maybe I_ have _become an unmotivated loser,_ he thinks, laughing at himself. Team B’s catcher shoots him a weird look, so he straightens his face out and winds up for another pitch.

Woojin watches Jeongin’s lip quiver. Woojin only has to get another strike to shut the entire Team A out for a third inning running, but at the very last second, he finds that he can’t do it.

_It’s just a game. Jeongin won’t feel bad if you shut him out. You’re just playing the game the way it’s supposed to be played._

Woojin grips the ball. _Even so…_

Chan chews on his lip. He can’t imagine what it’s like to have to play an official match against your team, especially in the way Woojin ended up doing it.

The distress on Woojin’s face is clear all the way from the bleachers. Whatever he’s feeling right now, he’s pitched a near perfect game so far, only giving up two innings out of six. Team B is leading by two points – it would have been ten or eleven, if Team A hadn’t been so efficient at fielding.

“Team B’s never beat Team A before, have they?” Someone from behind Chan says.

“Never. But their pitcher’s carrying the whole game.” Someone else from behind Chan says. “I don’t think he can keep it up.”

_I hope he does._ Chan frowns as he watches Woojin winds up for another pitch.

The people around his erupt in a mix of cheers and groans when the ball smacks firmly into the catcher’s mitt.

Jeongin swings the bat in frustration as he walks off the field, ignoring the apologetic look from Woojin.

 

Woojin wants to throw his glove to the ground. _Is this what it takes for me to play well? Feel fucking_ awful _about it?_

“Amazing job, Woojin,” Assistant Coach Yoo says, clapping Woojin on the back when he gets back to the bench.

Woojin gives her a weak smile. If there’s anything good that’s coming out of this game, it’s giving Assistant Coach Yoo a little win over the Head Coach.

“Come on, guys, last inning. We can _do_ this,” Assistant Coach Yoo’s practically jumping now, giddy from the prospect of beating their school’s premier team. “Let’s not put our captain’s hard work to waste, okay?”

There’s a chorus of noncommittal grunts from Woojin’s teammates. If they felt ambivalent about him before, well, they _hate_ him now.

Assistant Coach Yoo pats Woojin on the shoulder again. “Seriously, what did you have for breakfast this morning?”

“Nothing.”

 

Chan hurries down the bleachers to catch Woojin before he leaves. He saw the man in the dark blue suit – probably one of those security guys again – walk up to Woojin right after the game.

“Woojin!” Chan calls out, hopping over a pile of coolers.

Woojin turns around, but the security guy doesn’t. “Oh. Hey.”

“Good game.” Chan finds himself saying. He wants to kick himself. _Of all the things you could say to him…_

“Thanks.” Woojin’s face is blank as a sheet.

“Um… Could we…” Chan makes a face at himself. _Where are your words???_ “Could I talk to you for a min- moment? For a short while?”

Woojin sighs. “Don’t you have a game?”

“Yeah.” Chan admits.

“Good luck on your game.” Woojin says glumly, turning to catch up to the security guy.

“Woojin, wait,” Chan reaches out and catches Woojin by the big _01_ on the back of his jersey.

Woojin turns around then with a very, very cold look in his eyes. The sort of look that says, _Touch me again and you will seriously regret it._ The sort of look that, if you’re on the receiving end, should get you to let go of the guy’s fucking shirt.

Chan’s never been real good with life-or-death situations. He tugs Woojin towards him by the jersey number. “I just wanted to know if you’re doing ok.”

“I’m not.” Woojin says curtly, pretty much tearing his jersey out of Chan’s grasp.

“Do you want a hug?”

Woojin pauses then, his frown deepening.

 

Woojin doesn’t know if he’s happy about winning this game or not. He doesn’t know if the ache that’s starting to well up in his throwing arm is worth anything or not. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to stop feeling guilty about the look on Jeongin’s face when he shut him out or not.

On top of all that, Woojin doesn’t know if he wants a hug from Chan or not.

“Go to your game.” Woojin says. “Your team would fall apart without you.”

Chan doesn’t leave, as Woojin expects him to do.

“So did yours.” Chan says, also as Woojin expects him to.

Woojin decides to break the monotony. He steps forward and puts his arms around Chan, resting his face in Chan’s shoulder.

 

“Woojin?” Chan asks, deeply concerned. He’s frozen in place for a moment, because his brain’s arguing with his body, because there’s no way Woojin just hugged him without being forced to.

“Mm-hm?” Woojin’s voice is muffled against Chan’s shirt.

Chan puts a hand on Woojin’s back, rubbing up and down soothingly. “You’re really not okay, are you?”

“No,” Woojin says. “This color is _really_ painful on the eyes up close.”

Chan looks down at his fuchsia jersey and laughs. “ _Woojin_.”

“If your school picked this color to psych your opponents out, it’s really working.”

“Woojin, I’m being serious here,” Chan laughs, gently easing Woojin off of him. He tilts Woojin’s chin up to find the latter smiling. “Don’t feel bad about today, okay?”

Woojin’s smile falters. “You think that just because you say that, it’s going to happen?”

“No.” Chan says. “But someone has to say it to you.”

“Fair enough.” Woojin shrugs. Then he smiles. “Thanks, Chan.”

Chan’s chest feels warm inside, but cold where Woojin had been leaning against it.

“But _seriously_ , good luck on your game.” Woojin says, finding one bit of Chan’s jersey that hadn’t been tucked into his pants. Woojin tucks it in with one finger. “I want to see you at semis.”

Chan loves his team, and they’ve come a long way, but he’s not delusional. “We can see each other outside of games, you know.”

Woojin lifts his eyebrows. “What?”

“I- I mean, we could text and call, like normal people do,” Chan’s face burns from the neck up. “We don’t have to keep running into each other by chance and stuff.”

“You want my number?”

Chan wishes Woojin wouldn’t put him on the spot like this. No one’s around to hear them, but it’s still embarrassing when he squeaks out, “Yes.”

Woojin extends a hand.

Chan stares at it.

 

Woojin takes a deep breath. _He’s not an idiot, Woojin, he’s not stupid,_ he repeats to himself in his mind, while counting to ten in another part of his mind. _If Chan weren’t so damn cute, I would have already punched him in the face for wasting_ so much _time._

“Give me your phone.” Woojin spells it out for the poor fool.

“Oh.” Chan fumbles around his pockets and pulls out a badly cracked and duct-taped little brick.

Woojin tries to keep his expression blank as he also tries to type numbers into it. He can’t even get started, because no matter how hard he pushes on the 3 key, it doesn’t respond.

“Oh, the 3 key gets jammed easily,” Chan explains, reaching to take the phone back. His fingers brush against Woojin’s for a moment.

They feel like sandpaper against Woojin’s skin.

“You know what.” Woojin says, quickly drawing his hands back to his sides. “Just give me _your_ number.”

“Yeah. Smart.” Chan laughs, mostly at himself. “That’s a good idea.”

Woojin hears footsteps on the pavement behind him as Chan fumbles to type his number into Woojin’s phone. _Hurry,_ Woojin urges Chan internally.

 

Chan sees his teammates tumble out of Changbin’s dad’s van in the parking lot behind Woojin. He types out his number and passes the phone back to Woojin without checking. It’s not that he’s embarrassed about being seen with Woojin, it’s just that he doesn’t want _his teammates_ in particular to see him with Woojin.

“I’ll text.” Woojin says, turning to leave.

“Okay.” Chan wishes he could have gotten one more hug out of Woojin, but it’s too late for that.

“Hey Cap.” Changbin walks up to him with his usual misplaced amount of swagger, flanked on both sides by Weevils shooting dirty looks in Woojin’s general direction. “That guy giving you any problems?”

_Yes. Many._ “Nope.”

“What did he want with you?” Felix asks, cracking his little knuckles.

“Nothing, I was just congratulating him on his game.” Chan says. _That’s not lying, technically. They don’t need to know about the other stuff._

“He should be congratulating you on your _game_ , if you get me!” Jisung says from the back.

Chan’s face flushes bright red as the rest of the Weevils burst out laughing.

 

“I’ll be in in a minute,” Hyunjin says.

His brother looks skeptical, but if he suspects anything, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Don’t forget to warm up.” He says, leaving Hyunjin alone.

Hyunjin leans on the wall at the back of the stands, looking up at the clouds. Part of him wishes he didn’t know what he knows, but the other part is glad he at least got a heads-up.

_Things will go back to normal after this,_ Hyunjin thinks. _It was just a little while of weirdness._

_All I have to do is make it through one more game._

“Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin turns to find Seungmin waving at him. He hasn’t seen Seungmin in real life for almost a month, and it takes a while to register. “Oh, hi!”

“Do you have a game today?” Seungmin asks.

“Yeah.” Hyunjin hitches a thumb at the wall behind him. “I have to go in in a short while.”

“Oh, cool. Good luck!” Seungmin says brightly.

“Do you have a game today?” Hyunjin asks.

“Just did.” Seungmin laughs in a mildly self-deprecating manner. “We got _squashed_.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Really? By whom?”

“Our captain.” Seungmin pretends to bow to an invisible deity. When he notices the baffled look on Hyunjin’s face, he adds, “He was put in Team B, but everyone knows nobody deserves to be in Team A more than he does.”

Hyunjin just shrugs in agreement. He doesn’t know the Bears’ captain well, but he sounds a lot like Hyunjin’s brother.

“How’s your brother?” Seungmin asks, as if he’s taken a peek into Hyunjin’s mind. “Coach? Coach-bro?”

“He’s…” Hyunjin hesitates for a moment. _Can I tell Seungmin? Would it matter?_ “He’s good. He just passed the licensure exam.”

“Oh, cool. Tell him congrats from me,” Seungmin says, and it’s the easy, casual way he says that makes Hyunjin smile. Most people make a big deal out of things like that, but Seungmin makes it sound like Hyunjin’s brother had come home from preschool with a few stars from his teacher. “So how are you doing?”

“Ok.”

“That’s good.” Seungmin says, nodding like everything is all right in the world.

Hyunjin notices one of the clouds he’d been watching has gotten to the far end of the sky. “Oh, I should probably get going.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to miss your game.” Seungmin squeezes Hyunjin on the arm. “Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

 

_Hi Chan! It’s Kim Woojin._

Woojin cringes, deletes the message, and starts over.

_Hello, it’s me, Woojin._

Woojin scraps that one too.

_Hi it’s me Woojin._

Woojin deletes everything and closes the entire messaging app just to open it again.

_Hey it’s Woojin._

Woojin figures that Chan would have to be next-level _stupid_ not to figure out which Woojin on earth is texting him. _The message is fine, but…_ He could always text Chan now, it’s not like he has to play that waiting game, since they know each other pretty well already… _Right?_

Someone knocks on his door.

“Come in!” Woojin says, quickly exiting the message draft.

The head of housekeeping opens the door a little and leans in. “Are you doing homework?”

Woojin looks down at the textbook he had open under his phone. _Who did I think I was kidding?_ “No, why?”

“Your father wants to talk to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY WOOJIN pt 3!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE THAT BOY FOREVER 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖


	30. Hyunjin Goes Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hyunjin had tried – he’d really tried – not to love baseball._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _But with his parents hauling him to ever single one of his brother’s games every weekend, what choice did Hyunjin have? Baseball quickly took first place in his heart, overtaking his love for climbing trees._
> 
>  
> 
> _He’d been six years old when he’d asked Jinyoung, then a freshman in high school, to teach him how to play._
> 
>  
> 
> _Jinyoung had been delighted._
> 
>  
> 
> _“Finally!” Jinyoung had said. He’d bought a little bat and a wiffle ball and a glove for six-year-old Hyunjin out of his own allowance, and picked up Hyunjin straight out of school every day to play in the park._
> 
>  
> 
> _It hadn’t occurred to Hyunjin that he and his brother were good at baseball, and other people weren’t._

“Did you hear?” Jisung asks Changbin, leaning on Changbin’s shoulder.

Changbin edges away on the bench. “What?”

“The Bears’ captain pitched a near-perfect game.” Jisung says excitedly. “He beat Team A _single-handedly_.”

“How? Baseball’s a team sport.” Felix frowns.

“Not the way that guy plays it.” Jisung says.

“Guys. Focus on the game.” Chan says sharply, and the other three jump to attention.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Sorry, Cap.”

Hyunjin had been standing a little way off, leaning against a wall. He hadn’t been part of the conversation, as usual, but he’d heard everything, as usual. And this sort of conversation gets to him.

There’s this part of him wondering how hard it must be to pitch a perfect game. That same, small voice inside him wants to know if he can pull it off. And what would happen if he tried.

But the rest of Hyunjin can’t be moved. Trying would mean letting people compare him to his brother, and it’s no one’s fault that Hyunjin’s come in second to Jinyoung since birth.

So when his brother had asked, at the beginning of the match, eyes on Hyunjin as he did, “Anyone want to make any changes to the lineup or anything today?” Hyunjin had shaken his head.

 

_Hyunjin had tried – he’d really tried – not to love baseball._

_But with his parents hauling him to ever single one of his brother’s games every weekend, what choice did Hyunjin have? Baseball quickly took first place in his heart, overtaking his love for climbing trees._

_He’d been six years old when he’d asked Jinyoung, then a freshman in high school, to teach him how to play._

_Jinyoung had been delighted._

_“Finally!” Jinyoung had said. He’d bought a little bat and a wiffle ball and a glove for six-year-old Hyunjin out of his own allowance, and picked up Hyunjin straight out of school every day to play in the park._

_It hadn’t occurred to Hyunjin that he and his brother were good at baseball, and other people weren’t._

 

Jinyoung hands Hyunjin a bat and a helmet. “We’re trying to get Jisung to third.” Is all he says.

Hyunjin nods. That’s all he really needed to know, anyway. The rest he could work out on his own.

 

_“You’re Park Jinyoung’s brother, aren’t you?” The coach of his middle school’s baseball team had asked Hyunjin at tryouts._

_“Yeah.” Hyunjin hadn’t thought anything of it._

_“Good, we really needed one of you.”_

_Hyunjin had been confused then, so when he’d gotten home, he’d asked his brother what the coach had meant._

_“Don’t mind him.” Jinyoung had grumbled. “He’s just being dumb about it.”_

_“Dumb about what?”_

Hyunjin hears the ball connect with his bat with a loud metallic ring. He drops the bat and starts running, before the umpire blows his whistle.

Someone had caught the ball, and Hyunjin trudges back to the bench dejectedly.

 

_Hyunjin had tried playing pitcher in his second year of middle school._

_He’d lasted all of one game._

_It’s not that he hadn’t played well – He_ had _, especially for his first time. But he’d overheard the adults – the coaches, the parents, and even the teachers – talking about him._

_“He’s not as good as his brother, is he?”_

_“His brother’s better, yeah.”_

_“It’s hardly fair of us to compare anyone to his brother.”_

_“Yeah, that kid was on another level.”_

_“Hyunjin’s good enough.”_

_They’d won the game by a little bit, but afterwards, Hyunjin had been so upset that he’d climbed the tallest tree in the park and refused to come down, even when his father had threatened to call the police (which, in retrospect, is kind of funny)._

_Eventually Jinyoung had to climb the tree, because neither of their parents could._

_“What’s wrong?” Jinyoung had asked._

_“Nothing.” Hyunjin had said on instinct, before adding, “People are being dumb.”_

_“Don’t listen to them, then.” Jinyoung had said, like it was that simple._

_For him, maybe it was._

 

It’s clear by the third inning that no amount of tumbling is going to get the Weevils to win this one.

Hyunjin’s brother is still desperately trying to keep the team focused on finishing the game, but Chan’s already gone and told them that he’s proud of them, no matter what happens. Chan apologizes for playing so badly today, and naturally, the rest of the team assures him that he’s doing well.

Hyunjin can pick out every single one of Chan’s mistakes, and they’re piling up more than usual. Hyunjin likes their captain a lot, but he’s just _not_ a reliable pitcher.

_“What do you_ mean _they won’t let you pitch?” Jinyoung had been furious when he’d come home from his university dorm one weekend to find that his little brother’d been playing third baseman. “Those other kids are hacks. You actually know what you’re doing!”_

_Hyunjin had shrugged. He’d learned at this point that saying nothing is usually the best response for everything, since people generally want conversations going their way._

_“Coaches can be such dumbasses sometimes.” Jinyoung had said._

_Hyunjin had had to agree, but Coach Im wasn’t really_ dumb _. He was nice to a fault, and when Hyunjin had said that he didn’t feel comfortable playing pitcher, Coach Im had let him pick another position._

_Of course he didn’t tell his brother that. Jinyoung had a thing about quitting._

_So he’d let his brother believe that Hyunjin was being wronged somehow, while Hyunjin was actually sitting comfortably in relative obscurity._

It’s before the fourth inning that Hyunjin decides to speak up. “Hyung.”

Everyone frowns at Hyunjin, who’d been quiet for the most of this game.

“Yeah?” Jinyoung asks.

“If Chan doesn’t mind, I wanna try pitching.”

“Dude, _what_?” Changbin says immediately. “We can’t try new stuff _right fucking now_ -”

“Changbin.” Chan says sharply.

Changbin shrinks away obediently. “Sorry, Cap.”

Jinyoung purses his lips to keep his expression flat, but Hyunjin can see the barely contained excitement in his eyes. “Chan, is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, I’ll play catcher.” Chan says without a moment’s thought. Hyunjin wonders if he’s wanted that for a while now, but he doesn’t have time to wonder.

 

Hyunjin flubs four pitches, letting the other team’s batter walk to first. He can feel the tense way Jisung’s hovering behind him, and he can almost hear Changbin’s teeth grinding. Even Chan looks stressed from inside his catcher’s mask.

But Hyunjin’s brother is smiling like he has no idea what’s going on around him and couldn’t care less. Hyunjin feels like he’s just dropped a backpack full of books off his shoulders.

Hyunjin winds up, eyeing the exact spot he wants the ball to pass through, right under the batter’s bat.

“Strike!”

Hyunjin tries tilting the ball’s trajectory slightly to the left, so the batter gets it late if he ever does.

He doesn’t.

“Strike!”

Hyunjin note the irritation on the batter’s face. _He must be a heavy hitter or something._ Hyunjin delivers the ball again, a little slowly this time.

“Out!”

Hyunjin finds himself mirroring his brother’s smile back at him. _It’s a bit late for a perfect game, but…_

 

“What the hell was that?” Jisung asks after that inning, which is over in a few minutes. He jumps and tackles Hyunjin. “That was fucking _awesome_!”

“You didn’t tell us you could do that!” Changbin says, shaking Hyunjin by the shoulders with Jisung hanging off the latter.

Hyunjin just shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. He’d forgotten how much he loved pitching.

“Come on, guys.” Hyunjin’s brother says, waving his hands to get the other boys to settle down. “We can save this game, but we’ve got a long way to go. Let’s save our energy.”

He looks at Hyunjin then, and winks.

Hyunjin snorts.

 

_There’s this game that Hyunjin and Jinyoung used to play when Hyunjin was younger and Jinyoung was teaching him to pitch._

_“You never throw it the same way, unless you’re psyching someone out on purpose.” Jinyoung had told Hyunjin, who was all of eight years old at the time._

_“Psyching someone out?” Hyunjin had echoed, frowning._

_“Uh… messing with their head. To make them lose.”_

_“That sounds mean.”_

_“You have to be a little mean sometimes to win. I mean,” Jinyoung had tugged on the ends of his hair then. “It’s not mean, it’s just a strategy. It’s not anything personal, so it’s not mean.”_

_“Ok.”_

_“Good. Here’s the thing. Remember all those tricks I taught you?”_

_“Yes!” Hyunjin had nodded so hard his neck hurt a little. “Like the_ curvy ball _?”_

_“Curve ball,” Jinyoung had corrected him, smirking to stop himself from laughing. “Anyway, we’ll assign one signal to each of the different tricks, and then when I show that signal, you do the trick. Okay?”_

_“Okay.”_

_“What kind of signal do you want? It has to be like a hand signal…”_

_Hyunjin had chewed on his lip then, deep in thought. He remembered a book he’d liked reading in class, and says, “Can we do it in sign language?”_

_“Uh…” Jinyoung had grimaced then. “Like the one deaf people use?”_

_“Yeah. I learned it because of this book we were reading in school about a girl who…” Hyunjin had noticed his brother was completely lost, so he’d said. “We can just do the first letters. Like this is a C,” He curves his hand into a C. “For curve ball.”_

_“Oh, okay.”_

_“And then you can say F for fastball, or maybe FA for fastball and FO for forkball,” Hyunjin had gone on excitedly, showing his brother all the different symbols. They’d ended up spending the rest of the afternoon on sign language, because Jinyoung seemed to have terrible hand-eye coordination for a pitcher, which had made Hyunjin laugh so hard he’d had to lie on the grass a couple of times._

Hyunjin’s about to throw a pitch when he notices something moving from behind Chan.

His brother’s holding up a fist. Hyunjin frowns at it for a moment, then Jinyoung puts three of his fingers forward, like he’s miming throwing a ball.

 _Yes, I’m going to throw it already,_ Hyunjin thinks irritably, when his brother does the hand motion again. Then Hyunjin realizes his brother’s getting kind of aggressive with the hand movements. _Oh..._

Jinyoung balls his hand into a fist. _S._

Then he puts his index finger, middle finger, and thumb out in a kind of V formation with the thumb between the two longer fingers. _P._

Hyunjin nods and throws a near-perfect splitter.

 

“Out!” The umpire blows his whistle to signal the end of the game.

Hyunjin looks back at his brother, who’s holding up another sign, even though the game is over.

 _O? Is that an O? As in game Over?_ Hyunjin squints, then he realizes his brother’s put his thumb and index finger into a little heart.

Hyunjin arches his arms over his head to form a big heart.

“FUUUUUUUCK YEEEEEEES!” Jisung screams, tackling Hyunjin out of nowhere.

Hyunjin is too exhausted to get away, so he just pats Jisung amiably on the arm.

“WE’RE IN THE SEMIIIIIIFINAAAAAALS!” Changbin screeches, throwing his glove in the air and running to hug Jisung and Hyunjin.

In a few seconds, all of the Weevils are packed tight around Hyunjin like a bundle of toothpicks around one uncomfortable popsicle stick.  

Chan is almost unintelligible as he sobs, “AM SA PRAWDA YOU GUYS!”

“I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!” Felix wails.

Hyunjin draws the line at Jisung attempting to kiss him, so he wrestles his way out of the group hug to look for his brother.

“COAAACH!”

“GET OVER HERE!”

Chan and Changbin grab Jinyoung by the arms and pull him into their group hug.

“Wait, wait, you have to shake hands with the other team! _Guys_!”

“SEMIIIIIIS!” Jisung screams, drowning their Coach out as the latter is literally drowned in a dogpile of Weevils.

Changbin shouts. “LUNCH IS ON COACH PARK!”

“WOOOOOOO!” The Weevils whoop, trying to lift the crumpled and disgruntled coach on their shoulders.

“NO IT ISN’T!” Jinyoung screams, trying to get down to safety.

“COACH PARK’S BUYING US ALL STEAK!” Chan shouts.

“STEAK! STEAK! STEAK!” The Weevils cheer, hefting their coach skyward. “STEAAAAK!”

“NO!” Jinyoung screams as he hovers in the air for a split second, before coming down on the Weevils, who hadn’t been prepared to _catch_ him. Everyone crumples and tumbles to the ground, groaning.

Hyunjin laughs so hard he cries.


	31. Congratulations by Day6 (song rec by Seungmin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s this for?” Woojin asks, when Jihyo deposits a tiny dome-shaped cake on Woojin’s desk.
> 
> “Con-gra-tu-laaaations!” Jihyo sings, waving jazz hands in Woojin’s face. “We did it!”
> 
> “Oh. Right.” Woojin nods slowly. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just lies, “Well, you did most of it.”
> 
> “Yeah, and you better not forget it.” Jihyo squeezes his arm giddily. “I’m so happy for you! GOSH!”
> 
> “Thanks.” Woojin mutters.

Hyunjin taps his feet to the music blaring through his headphones. He’s standing in the hallway outside the Vice Principal’s office, waiting for his brother.

Hyunjin smiles to himself. Putting it that way makes it sound like his brother’s in trouble for something.

The door opens, and all Hyunjin hears over his music is Vice Principal Bae saying, “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

“Positive.” Hyunjin’s brother says with a funny little salute. “Thanks for everything, Ms. Bae.”

“Take care, Jinyoung.” Vice Principal Bae leans on her doorframe and waves at Hyunjin. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Hello.” Hyunjin nods politely.

“Let’s go, the others are probably behaving like animals by now,” Jinyoung says, checking his watch. They’re ten minutes late for practice, which Hyunjin knows. But he doesn’t really want to go, not today.

 

Felix looks up when he hears Coach Park’s whistle sound.

“Hey Coach!” He waves before catching a ball from Changbin.

“What are you guys doing?” Their coach calls out as he walks towards them.

“Drills?” Changbin and Felix shout back.

_I mean, it’s what we’re supposed to be doing? Right? Oh god… right???_ Felix straightens up like a soldier at attention when their coach arrives. It’s not that he’s afraid of Coach Park – well, he used to be, but now he’s afraid of letting Coach Park down. _Coach Park is a great guy_. _The best guy, maybe. Aside from my dad._

“Okay, everyone, come here,” Their coach makes a big motion with his hands to call everyone over.

Felix looks over at Changbin, who looks as confused as he is. _Only cuter_. Felix looks to their captain for some answers, but Cap’s frown is so deep Felix can see it from across the park’s lawn.

Chan outjogs the rest of the team, arriving to their coach first, as he usually does.

“What’s up, Coach?” He asks.

Their coach looks upset about something, but it doesn’t seem like anyone on the team, for the life of them, can figure out what it is.

Felix, being the fifteen-year-old he is, cowers partly behind their captain.

“So, I’ve got good news and bad news,” Their coach says. “Which one do you want first?”

Their captain looks around, but the rest of the tema is just shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads like, _Don’t ask me._

“We’ll take the good news first.” Their captain says firmly.

“Okay, I should have expected you would,” Their coach chuckles, and Felix feels his shoulders get a little less tense. _Can’t be that bad, then._

“Spit it out, Coach, we’re dying over here.” Jisung whines.

“Okay, okay. Good news is I won’t be your coach anymore starting next week.”

Felix’s heart sinks.

“W- What?” He chokes out.

 

Chan feels lost. “What do you mean you won’t be our coach anymore?”

“I passed the licensure exam,” Coach Park shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but then again, to him it probably is. “And I got a job. I start next Tuesday.”

The silence that follows is unsettling. It seems like even the birds in the trees don’t know what to do.

“Congratulations.” Chan manages to say, though his heart’s not in it.

“Thanks, Captain.” Their coach smiles, but even he can sense the weird mood that’s fallen over the team. “C’mon guys, don’t you want that? No more me shouting at you and giving you a shit-ton of drills and extra training… Less stress?”

“Semifinals are next week, Coach.” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” Their coach claps Changbin on the arm, but it echoes, because the park’s gone so quiet. “I’m sure you guys will do great. And besides, it doesn’t matter so much anymore. You guys reached the semis! Who would have thought-”

“Who’s going to coach us now?” Jisung asks.

“Coach Im’s coming back this Friday.” Coach Park says.

“Oh.”

Chan turns the ball around in his hand. He knows, objectively, that this is great for Coach Park, and he hadn’t been planning to stay for very long from the beginning. _Besides, we_ did _make it to the semifinals, which is amazing. A couple months ago I didn’t think we’d make it past the prelims…_

“Hyung.” Hyunjin says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the bad news?” Hyunjin asks, but the dry way he asks seems to say that he already knows the answer.

“Oh, yeah, the bad news.” Their coach gives them an apologetic look then. Chan can’t think of any worse news than Coach Park leaving them, but he braces himself for the worst anyway. “We have to return all the equipment I, uh, _borrowed_. I just took it from my college roommate and he noticed they’re missing so… Yeah, he wants them back.”

The Weevils clutch onto their gloves protectively.

“Come on, guys, we all know this thing was just temporary,” Their coach says. “The equipment, I mean. We have to give them ba-”

“Can’t you stay until the end of the season?” Changbin blurts out, his face turning red when everyone looks at him.

“I, uh,” Their coach runs a hand through his hair. “I’m still going to try to watch your games, you know, ‘cause my brother’s still my brother, but no promises.”

“Is it our fault?” Felix asks.

“What do you mean?” Their coach frowns.

Felix’s bottom lip quivers. “Is it our fault you don’t want to coach us anymore?”

“No, no,” Their coach replies quickly. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to coach you anymore. I just _can’t_ , not with a full-time job like this one. Besides, it’s not like I do much, really, you seem capable of doing things on your own.”

Felix starts crying then, and then the rest of the team tumble over like dominoes. Some of them sob into their sleeves to maintain a shred of dignity, while the others just bawl out loud like babies.

“Guys,” Chan says, rubbing his eyes dry on his sleeve. “ _Guys_. Come on, let’s make the most of this last week with Coach Park.”

Felix, who’d just started to hiccup his way to stopping, starts crying all over again.

 

“What’s this for?” Woojin asks, when Jihyo deposits a tiny dome-shaped cake on Woojin’s desk.

“Con-gra-tu-laaaations!” Jihyo sings, waving jazz hands in Woojin’s face. “We did it!”

“Oh. Right.” Woojin nods slowly. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just lies, “Well, _you_ did most of it.”

“Yeah, and you better not forget it.” Jihyo squeezes his arm giddily. “I’m so happy for you! GOSH!”

“Thanks.” Woojin mutters.

 

Woojin sees Jeongin wrestling with his lunch at the table they usually sit at. Jeongin looks up, half of a piece of meat stuck between his teeth, and gives Woojin a strange look. Then he seems to catch himself and immediately smiles and waves, but Jeongin’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Woojin waves back, weakly. Then he turns and walks right back out of the cafeteria. He can’t deal with Jeongin, not today.

He walks, and he keeps walking, even when he leaves the school building and starts down the front steps to the gate.

It’s just his luck that the school’s security guard is letting a car in through the gate.

A little orange coupe.

Woojin freezes in mid-step. He could probably run away, but the guilt keeps him rooted to the spot.

The car rolls to a stop on front of him, and the passenger side door opens. Jeongin’s mom steps out, and the look she gives Woojin makes him feel like his insides are withering.

“Hello, Woojin.” She says, and for the first time since he’d met her, she’s not smiling.

“Hello.” Woojin mumbles.

She stands there for some time, just staring Woojin down with that _look_. It’s not cruel or mean, it’s just so fiercely disappointed in him that Woojin wants to be anyone but himself right now.

The engine of the coupe shuts off and Jeongin’s dad steps out of the driver’s side.

“Hello, Woojin,” He says, placing a hand firmly on his wife’s lower back, nudging her away from Woojin. “Honey, let’s go-”

“Did you know?” Jeongin’s mom asks Woojin, staring right at him.

He doesn’t meet her eyes or reply.

“Honey, I’m sure it’s not his fault.” Jeongin’s dad says gently, pulling on his wife’s waist to move her towards the stairs. “He probably didn’t know-”

“He’s young, but he’s not a _child_.” Jeongin’s mom shoots an accusatory glance at Woojin. “You _knew_ , didn’t you?”

Woojin swallows. _Of course I did._

“And you didn’t care what would happen to Jeongin, did you?” Jeongin’s mom carries on, swiping her husband’s hands away when he tries to pull her away. “You’re just like your fa-”

“ _Honey_.” Jeongin’s dad says sharply.

Jeongin’s mom turns away, wiping he eyes on the edge of her sweater.

Jeongin’s dad gives Woojin a mildly sympathetic look. “Congratulations on making it back to Team A.”

“Th- thank you.” Woojin says, even though Jeongin’s mother makes an exasperated noise.

“How could you _congratulate_ him-”

“It’s not his fault.” Jeongin’s dad says, taking his wife’s hand and leading her to the school’s front steps. He turns to Woojin one last time and says, “I’m sorry, Woojin.”

Woojin knows he ought to protest and say that _he_ should be apologizing for what he’s done to their kid, that they don’t have any reason to be kind to him after that, but he just stands there, watching in silence as Jeongin’s parents walk into the school, arguing quietly between themselves.

 

_Four days earlier_

Woojin’s still thinking about what to text Chan when he walks down the stairs to his father’s home office. “ _Hey it’s Woojin” is fine, really. It would look dumb if I were too formal, right?_

_And this is_ Chan _we’re talking about. He’d probably wear shorts to a wedding._

_Why did you jump to that, Woojin? What the hell?_

Woojin knocks on the door. “Father?”

“Come in.”

Woojin steps into a room that smells a lot like whisky. His father’s sitting at his desk, as usual, but there are two people with him. One of them is a well-dressed, middle-aged man Woojin doesn’t recognize, and the other is Coach Park. The coach is heavily cleaned-up and his shirt is pressed to an inch of its life, but he’s the same sweaty, sneery Coach Park as always.

Woojin hesitates in the doorway.

“Come in.” His father says, more forcefully this time.

There’s an empty seat waiting for Woojin, but he doesn’t take it. He closes the door behind him and stands by it.

His father rolls his eyes, but gestures towards the man Woojin doesn’t recognize. “This is Mr. Choi from S------ University. Coach Park you know already.”

“Good afternoon.” Woojin says as politely as he can to both men. His mother didn’t raise an _animal._ “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Choi.”

“Likewise.” Mr. Choi replies with a gracious nod of his balding head. He smiles. “That game awhile ago was fantastic.”

“Thank you.” Woojin looks at his father, trying to read the man’s face for some sign. They must be here to discuss something about his future, unless they’ve discussed it already without him. Either way, Woojin doesn’t trust anyone in this room.

“Mr. Choi is offering you a full scholarship to S------- University,” Woojin’s father says.

“W- Well,” Mr. Choi says, putting his hands up to stop things before they get out of hand. “It’s not a concrete offer _yet_. There are some things we need to, eh, _smooth over_ to make a strong case to the committee.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“There’s a committee, you see, son, that picks out which athletes the university wants to invite to join their teams.” Mr. Choi explains, in a tone that would have anyone else thinking Woojin was a toddler. “The decision must be made by a majority of the committee, which is very tedious, and also more difficult than you’d think.”

Woojin clenches his teeth. He _hates_ being talked down to. “Yes.”

“Right now, the committee’s a bit on the fence about you – not because you aren’t a good player, of course, we know you are, one of the best, too…”

_Never mind being talked down to. I_ hate _being flattered._ “And?”

“It’s hard to convince them you’re one of the best players if you aren’t on the school’s premier team.” Woojin’s father cuts in. “Which you aren’t.”

“Not _currently_ , but that can change _._ ” Mr. Choi says, in that sing-song condescending tone that’s really getting on Woojin’s nerves. “Right, Coach Park?”

Woojin looks at Coach Park curiously. The coach must be pissed off as _hell_.

“Yes.” Coach Park says calmly.

Woojin frowns. _What the hell is going on?_

“Coach Park is offering you your old place back.” Woojin’s father says.

Woojin looks back again at Coach Park, who looks as if he were just taking a stroll in the park on a Sunday afternoon. “On what conditions?”

Mr. Choi laughs then. “ _Conditions_! Mr. Kim, your son’s such a budding businessman.”

Woojin’s father ignores the university official and gestures at Coach Park to speak.

“Well, I had to bring someone in from Team B when I took you out of Team A,” Coach Park says, leaning back in his leather seat. “So I can’t just put you back into Team A without taking anyone out.”

Woojin makes a face. He doesn’t know Choi Chanhee well, but the guy’s just gotten into Team A. It’d be a shame to take him right out again.

_What the hell are you thinking? Choi Chanhee’s a junior. He can always make it back to Team A when I leave. It’s not a problem, really._

“That’s it?” Woojin asks. “I switch places with Choi Chanhee?”

“Choi Chanhee?” Coach Park’s frown is _so_ fake that it makes Woojin’s blood boil. “I never said anything about Choi Chanhee. You’ll replace someone in Team A who’s not delivering, of course.”

Woojin heart stops.

“Yang Jeongin will be moved to Team B.” Woojin’s father says, getting impatient with the way this conversation is going. “You’ll take his place.”

Woojin stands up straighter. “But Jeongin made it to Team A through tryouts. And he’s not _bad_ -”

“Woojin.” His father says sharply.

“It’s nice that you care about your teammates,” Mr. Choi says. “I’ll remember to mention that in your write-up.”

“Yang Jeongin is unreliable as a pitcher.” Coach Park says. “He could do with more time in Team B.”

“He’s a good shortstop.” Woojin says defensively. “You don’t have to remove him-”

“If not him, then who?” Coach Park asks.

“I- I don’t know! Anyone else! Not Jeongin-”

“Woojin!” Woojin’s father bellows, smacking his desk. The other two men jump, but Woojin doesn’t even flinch. _Better the desk than me,_ is all he thinks. “We have already laid everything out for you. You have done _nothing_ to get your place back, so we did it for you. All you have to do is say yes.”

Woojin takes a few deep breaths, but they hitch somewhere in his chest. _I can’t do this to Jeongin. I can’t just say yes to this-_

“Please excuse us for a moment.” Woojin’s father says, gesturing to the door. Mr. Choi and Coach Park stand up obediently, and even bow on their way out the door. Woojin’s father turns his attention back to his son, whose fists are curled.

“Father, I-”

“You ungrateful _brat._ ” His father says. “You don’t really care about your future, do you? You don’t want to do anything, is that it? You think that just because we have a business, you don’t need to strive anymore?”

“No, Father.”

“I’d like to see more effort on your part, because your mother and I have done _everything_ for you. Other people have to work hard – other people even hve to work _and_ go to school on top of it, like your grandfather.” Woojin’s father nods at the framed photo on the wall, of Woojin’s grandfather in his heyday, white baseball uniform and all. “You only have to say yes, and you can’t do that? That’s pathetic, Woojin. We didn’t raise you like that.”

Woojin looks down at the carpet, heaving his breaths to keep himself from doing or saying something that’ll make matters worse than they are.

“I’m going to call Mr. Choi and Coach Park back in, and you will apologize to them both for your behavior,” Woojin’s father presses a button on the intercom. “And inform them of your decision.”

While Mr. Choi and Coach Park are settling back into their seats with freshly filled glasses of whisky, Woojin looks up. He looks his father in the eyes. People always say that they look alike, though Woojin could never see the resemblance. He didn’t look like his mother, either, but he just didn’t see himself in his father at all. His father has the eyes of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to throw someone like Jeongin to the dogs.

“Mr. Choi, Coach Park, I’m sorry for my outburst awhile ago. I’m just tired from my game, but that’s no excuse.” Woojin says in a clear voice. “And yes, I’ll come back to Team A.”

Coach Park lifts his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his whisky. “Even if Yang Jeongin takes your place in Team B?”

“Yes.”

Woojin’s never been more disgusted with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter doesn't go thematically with this one (which is super dramATIC) so i'll post it later this week. 
> 
> spoiler: it's a jisung POV and it's the wildest chapter to date


	32. “Fuck this, I’m taking a nap” – Lee Minho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But Jisung,” Chan’s apologetic look is giving Jisung another panic attack. “Everyone knows.”
> 
> Jisung sits down on the bench of the bus stop. He can’t breathe. 
> 
> “Oh crap oh crap, Jisung,” Chan rummages through his backpack and hands Jisung a soggy brown paper bag. “Breathe, Jisung, just relax.”
> 
> “Can’t-” Jisung puts the paper bag over his mouth and tries to breathe, but it smells like spoiled egg salad sandwich. He gags and throws the paper bag to the ground. “Are you trying to _kill_ me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mature content ahead, skip if you're not comfortable with sexy stuff

“Jisung!”

Jisung wakes up with a start and wipes drool off the textbook he’s not been studying for the past two hours. _Well damn._

“JISUNG!” His aunt hollers from downstairs.

“YEAH?” Jisung hollers back.

“YOUR FREELOADER FRIEND IS IN THE CAFÉ AGAIN! GET RID OF HIM!”

Jisung groans and pulls on a pair of pants.

“JISUNG!”

“YES! I’M COMING, AUNTIE!” Jisung shouts, pulling on socks and shoes as he hops down the stairs to the café on the ground floor. He passes through the kitchen, nicking a chocolate chip cookie from where it’s drying on a rack.

“Jisung, those cookies pay your goddamn tuition.” His aunt snaps when she sees the cookie in his mouth. “And your pants are on backwards.”

Jisung looks down. “Huh.”

“Whatever. Please get that _pest_ out of my fine establishment,” His aunt says, gesturing at a guy in a beanie sitting in the corner of the café. “He’s been sitting there for half an hour and refuses to order anything.”

Minho waves.

Jisung sighs and walks over. “Auntie said you’re not contributing to the capitalist cause, so you’ve got to go.”

“I got kicked out of my house.” Minho says casually.

“Again?” Jisung sighs. Minho’s always getting into fights with his sister, and they always escalate to the point that their mom throws both of them out until they start behaving like humans again.

“The bitch broke an electric fan over my head,” Minho pouts.

“Poor electric fan.”

“What would you have done if I’d _died_?” Minho asks, snapping a piece off the cookie in Jisung’s mouth and popping it into his own.

Jisung thinks about it while he chews the rest of his cookie. _I’d probably cry for months, and maybe never love anyone again, but Minho’s a hardy bitch. It’s going to take a lot to kill him. I have nothing to worry about._

“Hello, Minho. Still here I see.” Jisung’s aunt says as she passes them on the way to serve an actual customer.

“Hello, Auntie, didn’t see you there. Thought you were a high school student,” Minho says sweetly, winking at her.

Jisung’s aunt smiles as she pours water for the actual customers.

“Let’s go to the room,” Jisung grumbles, dragging Minho by the arm before he flirts with the plastic flowers on the table.

 

Minho sheds his shirt and his jeans as soon as he gets into Jisung’s room, tossing them onto piles of other clothes on the floor. “Your room’s a mess.”

“Thanks, I grew it myself.” Jisung says, locking the bedroom door behind him, for his aunt’s own good.

Jisung kicks his backwards pants off and starts tugging his shirt over his head.

“Hey.” Minho says, pulling Jisung’s shirt over his head. He checks the tag. There’s a little _M_ on it in black laundry marker. “This is _mine_!”

“Anything you leave here is mine, that’s the deal.” Jisung says, pulling Minho towards him by the band of his boxer-briefs.

Minho grumbles as he climbs into Jisung’s lap, tilting his head to one side to let Jisung mouth at his neck. “You should’ve just told me if you wanted new clothes.”

“And you’d buy them for me?” Jisung grins against Minho’s skin.

“No,” Minho says, sliding his arms around Jisung’s neck. “But I could probably find someone else who would.”

“You’re so sweet.” Jisung rolls his eyes, tilting his chin up to accept a kiss from Minho.

Jisung doesn’t know if he likes kissing Minho because it’s the one time that Minho actually shuts up, or if he just likes kissing Minho because he… likes kissing Minho. _A lot._

Minho breaks away for air and climbs out of Jisung’s lap, the random way he usually does. Minho starts messing with the things on Jisung’s desk, like typing the passcode into Jisung’s phone and smirking when he finds that Jisung hasn’t changed his passcode.

“What do you want?” Jisung asks, leaning back on his bed.

“ _You_ ,” Minho smiles at him, but then he goes back to messing with Jisung’s stuff. Minho picks up a white envelope that looks like it’s been ripped open by a rabid dog. “Have you gotten back to them?”

“Nope.” Jisung sighs and walks over. _What’s it gonna take for Minho to stop being such a nosy bitch?_

“This offer won’t stand forever, you know.” Minho wags the envelope, which bears the name and crest of S------ High School on the other side. “You should take it right away.”

Jisung groans and hugs Minho from behind, resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder. He snatches the envelope out of Minho’s hand. “I’ll do what I want, Minho.”

Minho jerks out of Jisung’s arms and frowns at him. “You’re _not_ transferring?”

“I don’t know, babe,” Jisung tosses the envelope back onto his desk beside the textbook he still hasn’t studied. “It’s not that simple-”

“What’s not simple about it?” Minho rolls his eyes. “You go to my school now, you can be Team A starting next year, and they’ll help you get into a good university and stuff. It’s win-win or whatever.”

“Your school’s expensive.” Jisung says. His aunt would probably shave him bald with a bread knife if he even _suggested_ transferring to Minho’s rich kid school.

“Oh my sweet, _illiterate_ Jisung, didn’t you read the letter?” Minho says, picking up the envelope and plucking the letter inside out. He points at the third line of the letter. “They’re offering you a 50% scholarship.”

Jisung’s gonna be honest. He missed that part. “It’s only half off…”

“Half of our tuition fee is…” Minho pouts up at the ceiling as he calculates it. “Roughly 89% of your tuition fee, so you’d basically be getting 11% off the tuition to go to an overall better school.”

Jisung can’t help but grin. _Minho can be such a nerd sometimes._

“Also, _I’d_ be there,” Minho shrugs, like he doesn’t need to sell any harder than that. “You’d see me every day.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” Jisung says, plopping onto his computer chair.

“Ugh, come _on_ , Jisung,” Minho groans, giving Jisung’s chair a solid kick. Jisung flies back and the chair gets stuck on a pile of clothes, throwing Jisung out onto the cold wooden floor.

“Ow,” Jisung groans, facedown on the floor.

“Shit, are you okay, babe?” Minho kneels on the floor next to him, brushing Jisung’s hair out of his face.

“Mmmfhffkk.”

Someone knocks on the door, and Jisung and Minho both look up with their eyes wide.

“Jisung?”

Jisung sits up and clamps a hand over Minho’s mouth. “Yes, Uncle?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just fell out of my chair.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful.” Jisung’s uncle’s footsteps pad down the hallway, but not far enough. The door to room next to Jisung’s shuts, and the walls are so thin that they hear Jisung’s uncle putting down what sound like heavy luggage on the floor next door.

Jisung looks back at Minho with a panicked expression. “Don’t make any noise,” He whispers, unclamping Minho’s mouth apprehensively.

“Does he not know about us?” Minho hisses back.

“Neither of them do.” Jisung whispers. “So please shut up until he leaves again.”

Minho makes a wretched face. “Fuck this, I’m taking a nap.”

Jisung watches Minho tiptoe over to Jisung’s bed and lie down. Jisung looks back at his textbook, which is still not getting studied, then at Minho, who’s crawling under Jisung’s covers like they’re his own.

Jisung sighs and walks over to the bed. “Can I join you?”

“It’s your own bed, why are you asking?” Minho whispers as he pulls back the covers for Jisung.

Jisung snuggles up next to him, pulling the covers up to their chins.

Minho stretches an arm out for Jisung to rest his head on. “This is going to hurt like hell when we wake up.”

“My head’s not as heavy as _yours_ ,” Jisung mumbles, getting his head comfortable on Minho’s arm.

“Bitch.” Minho whispers affectionately, placing a kiss on Jisung’s bangs, then immediately gagging and regretting it. _My hair probably tastes like flour,_ Jisung thinks, _cause I was helping Auntie with the bread awhile ago._

Jisung shuts his eyes and feels himself dropping off already.

“Jisung?” Minho’s voice is so soft that Jisung wouldn’t have heard it if the room hadn’t been dead silent. “Why won’t you transfer to S----- High?”

“I can’t,” Jisung mumbles.

“Why not?”

“I can’t let my team down.”

Minho groans, but so quietly that it makes the back of Jisung’s neck tingle. “I’m sorry, Jisung, but your team’s kind of a wreck.”

Jisung shifts indignantly in Minho’s arms. “We made it to semifinals.”

“That… That’s a fluke,” Minho says gently. “You had a good coach, but he just left, right? What’s gonna happen to you guys now?”

“Momentum’s probably gonna carry us for the rest of the season.” Jisung whispers back sadly.

“Well you’ve got to think about next year,” Minho says. “And the year after that. And so on blah blah blah.”

Jisung looks up at Minho’s eyes. In the faint afternoon sun crawling in through Jisung’s dusty windows, Minho’s eyes are really chocolatey brown and kind-looking. If Jisung hadn’t known Minho at all, he’d have fallen in love with him all over again then and there.

“It’s up to you, I guess.” Minho murmurs, his chocolatey brown eyes fluttering shut. “But I’m just worried about you.”

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers, hoping Minho’s actually asleep and not pretending just to catch Jisung saying dumb shit.

 

It’s dark out when Jisung wakes up again. He reaches out to the other side of his bed, but there’s no one there. He feels sad at first, then he starts panicking. _What if Minho runs into my uncle-_

Jisung scrambles to his feet and starts digging for the clothes he’d been wearing earlier. He’s interrupted by the door to his room opening and light from the hallway flooding his vision.

Jisung squints. “Minho?”

Minho flicks the lights on. He’s back in his jeans, but he’s reclaimed the shirt that Jisung had taken from him. “Good morning, beautiful.” He kicks the door shut behind him and sits at Jisung’s computer chair.

“W- What are you doing?” Jisung rushes to lock the door. “What if my uncle sees you?”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty sweet.” Minho says, folding the sheet of paper in his hand. “He let me borrow his printer.”

“He- _What_?” Jisung backs up against the door with anxiety overcoming him.

“He was complaining about his college roommate stealing all his shit, but the guy had returned it all suddenly yesterday, saying sorry and stuff.” Minho licks an envelope and puts the folded-up paper inside it. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it?”

Jisung had _felt_ that the equipment Coach Park had brought looked familiar. He looks down at the envelope Minho’s sealing. “What’s that?”

“I made an acceptance letter for you. Or whatever it’s called.”

“Minho, I’m not yet decided-”

“I know. Here you go.” Minho hands Jisung the sealed envelope. “If you want to transfer, just mail it. If you don’t just toss it. But anyway, the letter’s done.”

Jisung chews on the inside of his cheek.

Someone knocks on the door. “Jisung, Minho, dinner’s ready downstairs!” Jisung’s aunt says.

Jisung gasps for air. “Did you _tell_ them?”

“About us?” Minho laughs. “No, that’s your problem. Though your aunt _did_ notice I was wearing “your shirt”, so I think she’ll figure it out by the end of the week.”

“Minho.” Jisung’s hyperventilating so hard he has to sit down.

“Woah, woah, calm down,” Minho says, picking up Jisung like a little kid and bouncing him in his arms. “What’s so bad about them knowing, anyway? They’re not _that_ ancient, they probably don’t care if their nephew’s gay.”

Jisung bites Minho on the shoulder in exasperation. “They’ll tell my parents!”

“Doubt it.” Minho pats Jisung on the back. “Your aunt gives off some real lesbian energy, actually, I don’t she’ll out you to your folks.”

Jisung lets Minho lower him onto the bed, flopping back on the covers with no more will to live or move. _When mom and dad hear about this – and_ Grandma _, if my grandma hears about this they’re going to… Oh god…_

“Besides,” Minho grins, kneeling on the floor by the bed as he tugs Jisung’s underwear off. “They don’t have to worry about you getting anyone pregnant.”

Jisung’s about to tell him they _never_ worried about that when someone knocks on the door again. Jisung grabs Minho by the hair in a panic.

“Jisung! Minho! Dinner!” Jisung’s uncle calls.

“In a minute!” Minho calls back, the waistband of Jisung’s underwear between his teeth.

“Ok!”

Jisung’s uncle’s footsteps echo down the hallway and down the narrow stairs to the café. Jisung doesn’t know what he’s going to say during dinner later. _Hey, what’s up, beloved Aunt and Uncle, nothing to see here, just your good old nephew and his_ “friend” _who totally didn’t give him head just a few minutes ago…_

“Minho.” Jisung says, looking down at Minho kneeling at the edge of his bed.

“Hngh?” Minho hums, lifting his eyebrows.

“They’re going to start _wondering_ if we’re not down there in like, five minutes.” Jisung says.

Minho gives him two thumbs up.

 

“Jisung.”

Jisung blinks. Changbin’s frowning at him from a few meters away.

“Oh.” Jisung looks down and around and finds the half of a baseball a little way behind him. “Sorry, I spaced.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Changbin grumbles, lifting his beat-up glove to catch the half a baseball.

Jisung throws it, but with his aim and the sheer un-aerodynamicness of half a baseball, it flies off wildly to the right, hitting Felix in the shoulder.

“Ow…” Felix groans, rubbing his shoulder.

“Goddammit, Jisung.” Changbin walks over to ask if Felix is okay.

That gives Jisung the time to think, which is usually not a good thing. It’s when Jisung has time to think that he comes up with his worst ideas.

_Maybe I_ should _just transfer._

Jisung watches two of his teammates argue over a plastic fruit they’re using the in place of a baseball. Without Coach Park or the equipment he’d stolen from Jisung’s uncle, the team seems back to the way it used to be. _Even if Hyunjin’s pitching like a god, there’s only so much he can do with a beat-up baseball that doesn’t fly straight…_

“Hey! Jisung!” Changbin waves the half a baseball. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Jisung says, though he’s not really. He ends up chasing after the ball, which gives him more time to think.

He’d asked his uncle, of course, if they could borrow the equipment again.

_“So_ that _’s where they’ve been?”_ His uncle had said. “ _Sorry, dude,_ you _can borrow them, but a whole team? No way.”_

Jisung hadn’t wanted to be the asshole who shows up with nice equipment while the rest of his teammates struggled, so he’d politely declined his uncle’s offer.

Jisung manages to make it through the training without either killing Changbin or getting killed over the half a baseball. They even play a game with the partly-busted up baseball, and Coach Im is wildly impressed until Chan steps up to bat and (accidentally, of course) whacks the baseball to smithereens.

 

Jisung figures there’s only one person he can talk to about this. He finds Chan after training, frowning at a history book while waiting for his bus.

“Hey! Cap!” Jisung waves, jogging over.

Chan brightens up when he sees Jisung. “Jisung! You’re just the person I needed to talk to! I have a problem.”

Jisung frowns. _But I was gonna ask_ you _… about_ my _problem… Well this is awkward._

“Uh… sure.”

“Great!” Chan closes his textbook and tucks it under one arm. “So there’s this person I gave my number to around a week ago, but they haven’t called me. What should I do?”

Jisung backs up a whole step. “Hold up, is this the girlfriend of the Bears’ captain?”

“What?” Chan frowns at him for a whole minute, before waving his hands around wildly. “No, no, no! She didn’t- I mean, she _did_ ask me out, but she’s not Woojin’s girlfriend-”

“But everyone at their school knows she is.” Jisung says slowly, hoping Chan doesn’t ask him who his source is.

“Apparently she’s just his childhood friend or fiancée or something,” Chan says, and Jisung makes a face at that, but Chan carries on. “Anyway, Woojin’s the one I gave my number to.”

“The Bears’ _captain_?” Jisung sputters out. _Minho’s going to lose his damn mind when he hears this shit._

“Y- Yes.” Chan’s face and neck are completely red. “Anyway, I gave him my number around a week ago, and he said he would call, but he hasn’t, so I don’t know what I should do.”

Jisung has to think this one through for a whole damn minute. _So our Captain, whom the other Captain’s… fiancée asked out, but he rejected her or something, anyway,_ our _Captain gave the other captain his number a week ago… and… uh…_

“Why did you give him your number?” Jisung asks after a minute of thinking _really_ hard.

“Well, because,” Chan scratches his head. “Because we uh, well _I_ like him a lot and I thought he liked me back, but I guess he doesn’t like me _that_ much…”

“What the hell.” Jisung frowns. “How could he _not_ like you? You’re fucking _perfect_! If he doesn’t like you back I’m going to fucking _sock_ him until-”

“Come on, Jisung, he’s welcome to not like me back.”

_Uh, no he ain’t._ “And here I was thinking he was a smart guy.”

“He _is_ smart. Kind of too smart. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me back,” Chan looks down and sighs at his textbook. “Anyway, what should I do? Nothing, right?”

“I don’t-” Jisung grimaces. “Why are you asking _me_ anyway?”

“Because you’re the only guy on the team who isn’t single?”

“And w- where the hell did you get that idea?” Jisung squeaks, backing up into the bus shelter with a metallic clang.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Chan asks, patting the back of Jisung’s head gently. “Sorry, was I not supposed to know?”

“ _No one’s supposed to know!_ ”

“But Jisung,” Chan’s apologetic look is giving Jisung another panic attack. “Everyone knows.”

Jisung sits down on the bench of the bus stop. He can’t breathe.

“Oh crap oh crap, Jisung,” Chan rummages through his backpack and hands Jisung a soggy brown paper bag. “Breathe, Jisung, just relax.”

“Can’t-” Jisung puts the paper bag over his mouth and tries to breathe, but it smells like spoiled egg salad sandwich. He gags and throws the paper bag to the ground. “Are you trying to _kill_ me?”

“Sorry, Jisung, I’m sorry,” Chan pats Jisung on the back. “I was just trying to help.”

_Of course he was. That’s why it’s impossible for the Bears’ bitchass captain not to love this guy back._ Jisung swallows a lungful of air, then another. “You sure you gave him the right number? Did you ask him to text while you were still actually facing each other?”

“Oh.” Chan looks thoughtful.

“Maybe you’d just given him the wrong number.” Jisung gulps some more air like a fish out of water, except he needs air and the fish… _this simile sucks balls._ “You’ll see him at semis, though. He’s back in Team A.”

Chan’s eyes widen. “What? _Really_?” He asks, a goofy little grin crossing his face.

Jisung wonders if he looks _that_ stupid when he’s thinking about Minho. _Probably worse, Chan’s a pretty hot guy as it is._

“Yeah. Just this week.” Jisung says.

“Did your boyfriend tell you that?” Chan frowns up at the ceiling of the shelter as he tries to remember something. “Minho?”

Jisung chokes on air again, and Chan goes pale, rubbing his back for fear Jisung will hyperventilate again. Jisung doesn’t trust his own body, either. “Who the _hell_ told you Minho was my boyfriend?”

“He did.” Chan says. “At the training camp.”

_I am going to_ kill _that bitch when I see him again,_ Jisung resolves, taking deep breaths. “He is so dead.”

“Please don’t be mad at him, he seemed really proud of you,” Chan says with a little smile. “He seemed to like you a lot.”

Jisung’s shoulders sag. _He’d better._

Chan pats Jisung on the shoulders. “Are you two okay?”

Jisung blinks. “Huh?”

“You and your boyfriend. Are you guys doing okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. Ish.” Jisung sighs. He looks up at Chan, whose eyes are wide in concern as he waits for Jisung to go on. _I’m seriously to kick that guy’s dick off if he hurts our captain._ “Actually we’re kind of… well it’s not us really… I was just gonna ask you, well not really _ask_ you, I was gonna tell you…”

“About what?”

“S------- High gave me an offer to transfer there and play for their team.” Jisung says. _Might as well be blunt about it._

Chan looks thoughtful. “With a scholarship?”

“Yeah. Just half,” Jisung tries to remember what Minho had said about it. “But that’s still less than our tuition.”

“That’s good.” Chan says. “Are you going to take it?”

Jisung frowns. “You’re not mad or anything?”

“Why would I be? A good school is offering you a good opportunity,” Chan shrugs. “You’re my friend and I’m really happy for you.”

Jisung sighs. _If that asshole even_ thinks _of breaking our Cap’s heart I am going to fucking castrate him with a spoon._

“I’m not sure yet if I’m going to leave.” Jisung says. “I mean, going there won’t guarantee anything, it’s still the rich kids who get ahead and stuff.”

“You’re smart.” Chan says with conviction. “You’ll be fine.”

Jisung manages a half-smile. “You want me gone that badly?”

“No, of course not. It’ll be really quiet without you,” Chan says. “But if you’re destined for bigger things, I’m the last person who’s gonna stop you.”

Jisung’s eyes are starting to sting. “You know, I was gonna ask you for advice because I thought you’d be able to guilt-trip me into staying.”

“I’d never do that.”

“Yeah, I should’ve figured as much.” Jisung sighs. “I just don’t wanna let the team down. And even if I do go there and become a Bear on paper, I’ll never really stop being a Weevil. You get me?”

Chan watches a bus roll up, but he doesn’t get off the bench.

“Isn’t that your bus?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah, but I can always take the next one.” Chan shrugs. He turns to Jisung with a smile. “You know why our team is called the Weevils?”

“Because the guy who donated the school owned a rice farm that was destroyed by rice pests shortly after the school opened in 1968?”

Chan frowns. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“No, I’m bullshitting you.” Jisung laughs. He didn’t think Chan would buy into it, but there you have it. _He’s either really trusting, or really dumb, or both. Oh Captain, our captain._

“Well the reason that they told me when I was a freshie,” Chan says. “Is because one weevil doesn’t do much, but a lot of weevils together can destroy an entire field.”

Jisung gapes at that. “That’s really poetic, Cap.”

“It wasn’t me who made that,” Chan says quickly. “I don’t know who did, but I always liked that idea.”

“That it takes our entire team to completely wreck someone’s livelihood and property?”

Chan laughs so hard that Jisung laughs at little bit, mostly with him rather than at his own joke, because that would be _sad_.

“So what you’re saying is,” Jisung says. “The team needs me?”

Chan gives a noncommittal shrug. “It’s just a metaphor in the end. Real life is still real life.”

Jisung leans back against the bus shelter’s wall, groaning. “What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I have been, actually.” Chan says. When Jisung’s eyes widen, he adds, “Not S------ High, another school, NC Tech. They offered for me to transfer there two years ago.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jisung frowns. This is the first he’d ever heard of this.

“Well, I’d like to say that it’s because I loved my team even if we were losing everything and didn’t stand a chance,” Chan grimaces then, in a self-deprecating way. “But honestly, I was afraid that a _Tech_ school would have a lot of math.”

_That’s so_ painfully _Chan._ Jisung returns the grimace.

“You’re pretty good at math, though, so you don’t have to worry about that.” Chan says. “If I were you, I’d take it.”

 

“See? Even your captain wants you to go.” Minho says, after coming to meet Jisung as soon as Jisung gets home from training. They walk into the café together, and Minho waves at Jisung’s aunt. “Hello, Auntie!”

“Hello, Minho. Are you staying for dinner again tonight?”

Minho looks at Jisung with big, innocent eyes. “Am I?”

_Fake bitch._ Jisung rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you don’t need to cook extra stuff, Auntie.”

“Yeah, I’ll eat _anything_.” Minho says, drawing out that last word for so long that Jisung has to jab him in the ribs to make him stop. “Ow.”

Jisung locks the door behind him and leans against it with a sigh. “Min-”

Minho’s already stripped down to his underwear and made himself comfortable on Jisung’s computer chair.

“Minho,” Jisung groans, picking up Minho’s clothes and throwing them back at him. “I’m not up to it today.”

“What?” Minho clutches his clothes but doesn’t put them on. “You’re going to have to be more specific than-”

“Can we not do _anything_ today? I feel like crap.” Jisung plops onto a pile of clothes on the floor.

“Was training that bad?” Minho asks, sitting on the floor next to him. “Is your new coach an asshole?”

“Coach Im? He’s the exact opposite.” Jisung pats the pile of clothes next to him. Minho rolls onto his back like a puppy and snuggles up to him obediently. “If he were any nicer, he’d probably explode or something.”

Minho nuzzles his nose into Jisung’s shoulder. “Is this about transferring? Please don’t take me seriously. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“That’s just the thing.” Jisung kicks a pair of jeans away from his foot. “I don’t know if I want to do it or not.”

Minho nips Jisung’s shoulder gently with his lips over his teeth. “I could ask for an extension-”

“No you couldn’t, we both know that.” Jisung sighs.

“Maybe if I were Kim Woojin and my dad could bribe the fuck out of everyone,” Minho sighs. “But my dad’s just a doctor, not a CEO.”

Jisung laughs and flicks Minho on the tummy. “ _Just_ a doctor.”

“And he’s not even the president of his hospital.” Minho scoffs. “He’s just the head of a ward.”

“Shut up,” Jisung laughs, climbing on top of Minho and giving him a good shake. “Annoying-ass rich boy.”

“And it’s _so_ exhausting only having a gold credit card, not a platinum one-”

“Stop ittt,” Jisung pretends to throttle Minho, who’s snickering really hard.

“Didn’t think you were into that kinky shit,” Minho says, holding Jisung’s hands to his neck.

Jisung slides his hands off. “Minho, I’m really not in the mood for-”

“I know, I’m just fucking with you.” Minho does half a sit-up to land a peck on Jisung’s lips. He collapses back onto the pile of clothes. “Okay, but seriously, Kim Woojin’s dad is fucking _loaded_. He seriously bribed the school to get Woojin back on Team A.”

“Come on, Minho,” Jisung sighs, taking on the tone he takes every time Minho has new gossip: Tired and slightly disapproving, but intrigued. “How do you know that?”

“Coach Park has a new watch. And it’s definitely not one he’d buy for himself, because it’s actually classy. _And_ his wife would never buy that for him, she’s really stingy.” Minho says, ticking them off on his fingers. “And it seriously happened out of nowhere and no one said anything about it. Money _definitely_ exchanged hands.”

“Uh-huh.” Jisung says, intertwining his fingers with Minho’s. For a baseball player, Minho has really pretty, soft hands. _If I were a sexist asshole, I’d say they were like a girl’s._

“The thing I really don’t get is why he threw Jeongin under the bus.”

Jisung pushes himself up on his elbows to frown at Minho. “Jeongin?”

“The freshie. He’s Cap’s best friend, or at least I _thought_ he was,” Minho looks really bothered. “But when Cap came back to Team A, he had Jeongin put into Team B, not Chanhee – the guy who’d originally been moved to Team B when Coach moved Cap.”

Jisung’s imagining it in his head, but it’s like that magic trick with the peas under cups, and he’s getting dizzy. “Yeah. Weird.”

Minho smiles at Jisung, their lips just inches apart. “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

“I am.” Jisung says indignantly, but he’s staring at Minho’s mouth.

“And you _are_ up for sex today, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Jisung nods, eyes still on Minho’s mouth as it closes in on his. “Definitely.”

 

Jisung mails the letter the next day.

It goes something like,

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_Greetings! My name is Han Jisung and you’ve offered me a scholarship to play baseball for your school. First of all, what the hell is up with that logic? You’re giving me money for studying, but all you want me to do is help your baseball team win? Cut the crap and just straight up employ me to play baseball WITHOUT all that “You have to study and reach this minimum GPA” shit._

_Also, why a half scholarship? I’m only worth_ half _a scholarship? Get it together, you stingy sons of bitches. Your school earns billions every year from the thousands of third-generation heirs and heiresses who enroll in your school to hang out with their future wives and husbands and business partners. And you can’t afford to give_ one _me a FULL FUCKING SCHOLARSHIP??? Cheapskates._

_Third of all, you guys are some real dumb bitches to think I’ll hop on your dick if you wave some money in my face. I may not have a lot of money, but I have self respect, you assholes. Also, I have a great boyfriend who would definitely help me out financially if I ever asked for it, and for nothing in return, unlike you capitalist scumbags. So go take some yoga lessons so you can be flexible enough to bend over and go fuck yourselves, because you can keep your crappy half-scholarships and your leafy green uniforms and your internationally-accredited ballsacks, because I don’t give a fuck._

_Sincerely,_

_Han Jisung_

Or, at least, that’s the letter that Minho had typed out for him. That letter gets tossed somewhere on Jisung’s desk to get buried under a ton of other things, while Jisung types out a new letter that politely declines S----- High’s offer in three short, clean sentences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of late but I was out for most of last week with no internet... anyway I think this is my favorite chapter of the entire fic so far


	33. “I Don’t Wanna Make It Blue” -Lee Chaeyeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s _not_ okay, Chan.” Woojin says. “I’m a crappy person and there’s no two ways about it.”
> 
> Chan frowns, his lips curled into a pout. “I don’t think you are.”
> 
> “That’s because you don’t know,” Woojin turns to rest his back against the wall.
> 
> “Then tell me.”
> 
> Woojin fixes Chan with a curious look. “Don’t you have to get back to your mom?”
> 
> “Later.” Chan says firmly, leaning on the wall next to Woojin so their shoulders are aligned. “Tell me everything.”
> 
> _What am I supposed to do?_ Woojin sighs. _Say no?_

“Woojin, dear?”

Woojin stops pushing his breakfast around on his plate. “Sorry, Mom.”

“Huh? What for?”

“I was playing with my food?” When she keeps frowning at him with her blank, doe-like expression Woojin just says, “Never mind.”

“I was thinking you could skip cram school this morning,” Woojin’s mother says, sitting up with a bright expression. “And go shopping with me instead!”

Woojin tries to reciprocate the smile. “Why?”

“Think of it as a prize for getting back into Team A.” His mother beams.

Woojin sighs. Nothing will make him feel less crappy about that, especially not giving him prizes for doing it. “I don’t know, Mom, I don’t feel like going out today.”

“Oh, you can’t stay in, we’ve got new people coming in to do work today, you might be bothered by them.”

In this state, Woojin wouldn’t be bothered if someone crashed through his wall with a bulldozer. “It’s all right, Mom. Thank you.”

His mother’s red lips quiver. “What’s wrong, Woojin? Don’t you love shopping?”

_Honestly, I do, but not today. Or maybe ever again._

“I’m just having an off day.” Woojin says, taking a sip of his water to try to trick his mom into thinking he ate something.

“Shopping will fix that!”

Woojin figures there’s no point in arguing anymore.

 

He and his mother come home laden with shopping bags from designer brands – mostly hers, except for a pair of sneakers that Woojin had just bought to get her off his case. The head of housekeeping meets them at the door with a few hairs out of place.

“They’re not finished yet.” He says, apologizing profusely to Woojin’s mother and, in extension, Woojin. “They only sent two people to do the job, so-”

“Are they done with upstairs? I need to put these away before Chairman-dear gets home,” Woojin’s mom says urgently, gesturing at the armful of bags her son is carrying for her.

“O- Of course, Madam, I think they’ve finished that part of the house. They’re working in the tearoom right now, if you want to oversee-”

“No, the whole point of this is that I do _not_ want to bother them, and I don’t want them to bother me.” Woojin’s mother starts walking purposefully for the curved wooden staircase, her heels clattering on the floors in an urgent rhythm that even Woojin has trouble keeping up with. “Woojin-dear, hurry, your father could get back any minute now.”

Woojin doesn’t want to find out how that would go down, so he jogs after his mother carrying all her things. They stash them away in a secret panel of her walk-in closet, then Woojin goes down the hallway to his room to put the sneakers in his own closet.

_Now that I look at them, they’re not even the right size…_

He hears a noise when he closes the cabinet, so he opens it again. He doesn’t find anything fallen over, so he closes it once more, and hears nothing.

_Weird._

Woojin hears the noise again, and he realizes it’s coming through the wall, from the hallway outside. _The workers aren’t upstairs anymore, so what…_

If there’s one thing that Woojin hates about living in a huge, old mansion, it’s that he’s a _scaredy cat_ living in a huge, old mansion. Woojin reaches for his titanium bat and opens his door a crack.

It’s daytime, but all the curtains are drawn at the end of the hallway, and the lights are off to save on electricity, since his father seems to be practical about very few, random things like that.

Woojin’s hands tremble on the bat as he walks towards the source of the noise.

There’s a table at the end of the hallway with a huge bouquet of flowers in a china vase on it.

The flowers rustle, but there’s no wind.

Woojin lifts his bat. _These ghosts better not-_

The curtain draws open suddenly, and Woojin drops his bat, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” The ghost says in a mild, polite voice.

_Wait, I know that voice_ , Woojin thinks as he opens his eyes slowly. “Chan?”

Chan lets go of the dusty curtain and creeps around the table to smile at Woojin. “Hi.”

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“Oh, my mom and I brought the flowers,” Chan gestures at the huge floral arrangement. “But I misplaced my phone somewhere up here, I’m trying to-”

Woojin hears footsteps coming down the adjacent hallway. He glances at Chan, then back at the corner of the hallway, then at the nearest door, and in a moment of pure panic, he grabs Chan by the hand and pulls him in through the nearest door.

“What-”

“You’re not allowed to be up here without the housekeeping watching you,” Woojin hisses, back pressed against the door. “Keep quiet.”

“Okay.” Chan steps away from Woojin.

Woojin’s got his ear pressed to the door. He can hear the head of housekeeping talking to one of the other staff, but they seem to be talking about the swimming pool, not about the floral arrangements or the florists (?) who had brought them. He lets out a breath of relief.

“Hey, uh, Woojin?”

Woojin realizes how things must look like to Chan, so he turns to explain to Chan that he doesn’t have any bad intentions – _unless Chan wants him to_ – but Woojin forgets everything when he sees the room around them.

The curtain is a soft pastel pink, so it casts hazy, rosy light on the entire room, which is papered in little flowers. There are posters on the wall of boy groups that have long disbanded, and an assortment of dusty scrunchies and makeup on an equally dusty vanity dresser that’s reflecting Chan and Woojin’s terrified faces back at them.

“Woojin, do you have a sister?” Chan asks, looking around the aggressively cute, but very dusty room. There’s a stack of stuffed toys in the corner that have taken on a grayish tinge, and a bookshelf mostly full of brightly-colored teen novels from a time when graphic design had _very_ different sensibilities.

“I never had a sister.” Woojin says, backing up against the door.

“Then who…” Chan finds a set of framed photos – real film photos – on the bedside table, of teenage girls in a uniform he doesn’t recognize. “Woojin, whose room is this?”

“I- I don’t know. I always thought this was a storage room,” Woojin’s already got one hand on the handle. “But I’ve never seen anyone go in.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in _years_.”

“Please don’t say that!”

“How could there be a room in your house that _you don’t know about_?” Chan’s voice cracks with fear.

“P- Please stop saying things like that.” Woojin turns the knob. “We should go.”

“Yeah.” Chan says, waiting close behind Woojin to leave.

Then they hear footsteps in the hallway and they both freeze. Woojin hears the voice of the head of housekeeping.

“Are you sure you saw someone up here?”

“Positive.” One of the maids says. “I think it was a man?”

“It wasn’t Woojin? He’s the only one up here.”

“No, it didn’t look like him.”

There’s a long pause before the head of housekeeping picks up his radio and calls security.

Woojin only releases his breath when the footsteps start down the hallway again and fade down the stairs.

He looks back at Chan, who’s white as the sheets on the bed. _No, don’t think that, that’s super scary._

“At the count of three,” Woojin says calmly, until something on the wall catches his eye. It’s a little flag, like the kind they give out at school sporting events, and it reads, _NC Tech._

_NC Tech? Father went to NC Tech…_

“At the count of three, _what_?” Chan whispers urgently.

“I, uh, I mean, at the count of three,” Woojin grabs the doorknob. “We run to my room.”

“Which one is your room?”

“The door diagonal to this one.”

“You mean you’ve lived diagonally from this room all your life and you didn’t _know_ -”

“Bang Chan please stop freaking me out I am going to fucking pee myself as it is.” Woojin hisses, turning the knob slowly. “One, two-”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. One, two, _three_!”

Woojin opens the door and starts running down the hallway, glad that Chan at least has the presence of mind to close the door behind him.

 

They lean against the back of Woojin’s bedroom door, panting.

“Fuck’s sake, Woojin, what the _hell_ is wrong with your house?” Chan gasps, gripping the dooframe so tightly that his knuckles are which.

“I don’t know I don’t know I’ve never even _seen_ that room before I never even _knew_ it was there oh my god I’m going to just die,” Woojin sinks to the floor because his knees just can’t hold him up. He reaches for his bat, but it’s not there.

_Fuck. I left it back there…_

“Woojin, please tell me you’re messing with me,” Chan begs, sitting next to his because his knees, too, give way. “I won’t be able to _sleep_.”

“ _You_ won’t be able to sleep? _I’m_ the one who has to sleep down the hallway from whatever the fuck that was!” Woojin shudders. “I’m never going to sleep again!”

“Sorry.” Chan says, placing a hand over Woojin’s.

Woojin turns to him. He’s thinking about the creepy pastel pink room that’s _just been in his house for years_ and the favorite bat he’d left behind in it, so all in all, he’s _not_ thinking.

“I think I need a hug.” He says, as a result of all this not thinking.

Chan dives into a hug without another moment’s hesitation. “Me too.” He says, his breath warm against Woojin’s shoulder.

Woojin wraps his arms tightly around Chan until he can feel Chan’s heart racing against his own. They sit like that for a while, embracing on the floor beside Woojin’s door, before they start feeling silly.

Chan’s the first one who snorts, then pulls away from Woojin to straight-up laugh. “I’m sorry, I really don’t mean to be insensitive, but we must’ve looked _dumb_ back there.”

“ _Back there_?” Woojin scoffs. “We _still_ look dumb.”

“Yeah.” Chan’s smile is apologetic. “Sorry for freaking you out awhile ago.”

“No, it’s okay, I was also freaking you out.” Woojin says. “And it’s _my_ house that has the weird time capsule room.”

Now that Woojin’s calm and the sheer warmth radiating from Chan’s body is giving a false sense of security, he’s getting _curious_. His parents never mentioned a sister to him, but that doesn’t mean that she never existed, right? Woojin doesn’t want to be morbid, but there must be _some_ reason this girl – whoever she is – was never ever mentioned to Woojin in his eighteen years of living in this house.

“Hey, Woojin?”

Woojin blinks at Chan, whose face has gone from sheet pale to cherry red. “Yeah?”

“I actually,” Chan scratches his head in mild embarrassment. “I actually _asked_ my mom if I could help her make this delivery because I wanted to talk to you…”

Woojin frowns. “What?”

“It’s not anything serious, I just wanted to ask if something happened?”

“Like what?”

“Well,” Chan scuffs the toe of his sock on the carpet. It’s got a hole in it, and Chan’s toe is peeking out. It’s cute, but a little sad. “I was waiting for you to call me or text me or something, and I was thinking maybe I’d given you the wrong number, but I think I gave you the right one…”

Woojin’s stomach turns. _Oh crap. Right. I’d completely forgotten._

_Jeez, Woojin, you’re the worst person_ ever _._

“I’m so sorry Chan.” Woojin stammers. “Things came up and I- That’s no excuse, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay if-”

“It’s _not_ okay, Chan.” Woojin says. “I’m a crappy person and there’s no two ways about it.”

Chan frowns, his lips curled into a pout. “I don’t think you are.”

“That’s because you don’t know,” Woojin turns to rest his back against the wall.

“Then tell me.”

Woojin fixes Chan with a curious look. “Don’t you have to get back to your mom?”

“Later.” Chan says firmly, leaning on the wall next to Woojin so their shoulders are aligned. “Tell me everything.”

_What am I supposed to do?_ Woojin sighs. _Say no?_

“I had Coach Park switch me and Jeongin so I could get back in Team A. My dad paid him off.”

Woojin doesn’t turn to watch Chan’s face, because he can feel the uncomfortable way Chan’s shifting around in his seat. Chan’s fingers had been brushing casually against Woojin’s, and he’s just pulled them back.

_I’d be disgusted with me, too. Can’t blame him._

Chan doesn’t speak for a long time, but when he does, the first thing he says is, “Why?”

“Because,” Woojin frowns. He can’t seem to put it into words. _Because I was already enough of a failure as it was? Because I_ have _to get into a good university and all that crap? Because I’m a terrible person and I didn’t think things through before I hurt probably the only friend I had?_ “I’ve always been like that, Chan.”

Chan stands up suddenly, brushing his hands off on his knees. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah, you probably should.” Woojin stands up, head lowered in shame. He really wouldn’t blame Chan if he finally got off Woojin’s case now. Suddenly Woojin doesn’t want that.

Chan turns the doorknob. He pauses for a moment and looks in Woojin’s direction, one side of his mouth curling up in a sympathetic smile. Then the moment is over, and he leaves.

Woojin listens to Chan’s footsteps pad down the hallway, feeling worse than he already had to begin with.

He only leaves the room to go down to dinner, walking quickly in the dim hallway, eyes never daring to pass over that door at the end of the hallway. He’s walking so quickly he doesn’t see something on the floor, and trips over it.

Woojin’s chin hits the carpet, sending a jolt of pain all the way up his head. He reaches out, groaning, to find the thing he’d tripped on.

It’s a little plastic brick of a phone, held together by faith and little pieces of tape.

 

Jeongin wakes up late that Sunday morning. He panics, worried that he’s missing a game, then he remembers that there are no games this weekend, and semifinals are still a week away.

He walks to the kitchen, letting his feet fall heavy on the floor to give his parents a little heads up – if they’re doing anything they don’t want Jeongin to see, they _better_ stop.

“Mommyyy,” Jeongin lets out in a long whine when the hushed sounds coming from the kitchen don’t stop. He steps over the threshold into the kitchen with one eye shut, just to be safe.

Jeongin’s just in time to see his mom slam the front the door behind her. He looks back at his dad, who’s beating an egg so angrily it’s like he’s trying to cook it with a whisk.

Jeongin climbs onto one of the stools by the kitchen counter apprehensively. He’s only seen his parents argue about groceries and directions before, and he’s never seen his mother walk out on _anything_.

“Daddy?”

Jeongin’s dad stops whisking, placing the bowl down on the counter so hard that the whisk jumps out onto the floor. “Sorry.” He says, bending to pick it up. “What were you going to ask, Jeongin?”

“Where did Mommy go?”

“She’s just buying groceries.”

Jeongin makes a face. “By herself?”

“She’s perfectly capable of buying groceries on her own, Jeongin.”

“Well, yeah, I know,” Jeongin says, though he seriously doubts that. “But don’t we usually all go together?”

Jeongin’s dad goes back to beating the _crap_ out of this poor egg.

Jeongin swings his legs for some time, watching the birds perched on the window ledge. He’d offer to help with breakfast, but his dad’s cooking today and Jeongin offering his help to him is like the blind leading the…not blind.

“Jeongin.”

“Yes?” Jeongin sits up guiltily, like he’s been caught sleeping in class. _Which I don’t do… all the time._

“How do you feel about being moved to Team B?”

“Uh,” Jeongin chews on his lip for a moment before saying, “I feel pretty bad but it’s not… _that_ bad. Why?”

Jeongin’s dad pours the thoroughly beaten egg into a waiting pan. It sizzles and pops in the thin layer of oil. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell your mom, but…”

“But what?”

Jeongin’s dad looks away from the omelet he’s cooking to give Jeongin a weak smile. “Forget I said anything.”

Jeongin pouts. “But you already _said_ something, Daddy, you can’t take it back. Just say everything already.”

“Sorry, Jeongin, I don’t want to antagonize your mother.”

Jeongin’s not heard his dad refer to his mom so formally in a _long_ time. It creeps him out, so he sits there and watches his dad cook the omelet without pressing the issue any further.

Usually he enjoys having eggshell-free omelets, but his breakfast this morning feels empty without the brain-rattling crunch in it.

 

_“Are you gonna take that?”_

Jeongin’s character in his game falls off a building and hits the ground with a splat. Jeongin grumbles at all the money and weapons he drops when he dies.

_“What do you mean?” Jeongin had asked Minho last Monday._

_“Cap’s treating you like trash.”_

_“No he doesn’t,” Jeongin had said indignantly, because he hadn’t yet known what was going on._

_“Oh god, you don’t know, do you?” Minho had figured it out pretty quickly._

_“Know what?”_

_Minho had taken a deep breath. “Cap’s back in Team A starting next week.”_

_“That’s great!” Jeongin had cut in._

_“And you’re getting kicked out.” Minho had scowled. “Well, not_ out _, but you’re going to Team B.”_

_Jeongin had taken an entire minute to understand. “What the hell is wrong with Coach Park-”_

_“It wasn’t Coach Park’s idea.” Minho had said. “It was Cap’s.”_

_It had taken every fibre of self-control and every inch of Jeongin’s love for his mom not to break Minho’s nose then and there._ There’s no way Woojin would do that to me. We don’t see each other so often now, but he’s still Woojin, and he’s my friend. It’s definitely Coach Park’s fault somehow, not Cap’s. _Duh_.

“Jeongin!”

Jeongin doesn’t bother pausing his game, because he’s playing so badly he’s just not gonna save it. “Yeah?” He calls back.

“Jeongin, get dressed, we have to go,” Jeongin’s dad looks distressed when he leans through the doorway to Jeongin’s room. His shirt hasn’t been buttoned to the top, and his jeans are crumpled.

“Go? Where?” Jeongin looks at his game. He’s been doing so crappily today that he could pull the plug and not feel bad about it.

“Mommy’s in the hospital.”

Jeongin drops his controller. “What? _Why_?”

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the start of the NC Tech arc and it's incredibly messy but 🅱LEASE DON'T HATE ME


	34. Neo Got My Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Whose room is it?” Woojin had asked, before changing his mind and asking, “Whose room was it?”_
> 
> _“I- I don’t know.”_
> 
> _Woojin’s mother had called for the head of housekeeping then, and he had never looked more relieved to have to attend to Woojin’s mother’s endless complaints._
> 
> _When Woojin had gathered up the courage to try the door at the end of the hallway after breakfast, it had been locked._
> 
> “…Scary.”
> 
> Woojin realizes that Minho’s been talking all this time. “Sorry, what?”
> 
> “I said, these guys are scary,” Minho says, sounding irritated that he doesn’t have Woojin’s undivided attention. 
> 
> Woojin squints down at the NC Tech Tigers, who all shift in creepy synchronization when their coach blows his whistle. 
> 
> _I’d like to see the Weevils try_ that, Woojin thinks, grinning to himself.

Jeongin trails after his dad as they enter the hospital – it’s not like he has much of a choice, though, because Jeongin doesn’t know his way around the hospital _and_ his dad runs a lot faster than he does.

They end up outside the emergency room, and Jeongin hangs back again while his dad frantically asks a nurse where his wife is.

_What am I gonna do without Mommy?_

_What’s gonna happen to us?_

Jeongin bites a fingernail. His mom got him to stop doing that a while back, but he can’t help it right now.

“Your wife is resting in one of the rooms over here,” The nurse says, gesturing gently down a corridor.

Jeongin’s dad nearly sits on the linoleum floor in relief. “Thank you.”

 

Jeongin’s mom is sitting upright in a bed, tapping angrily at her phone. “It’s out of battery,” is the first thing she says to Jeongin and his dad when the nurse shown them into the room. “Oh, hello.”

Jeongin slips past his dad to run and hug her. “Mommy what the _hell_ happened to you?”

“No swearing, baby.” Jeongin’s mom snaps, then she pats his head softly. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“It’s okay, Mommy.” Jeongin’s face is buried in his mom’s shoulder, and he’s waiting for his dad to come over too and sandwich Jeongin like he always does.

But Jeongin looks up and finds his dad still standing by the door.

“What did the doctor say?” Jeongin’s dad asks, in a weirdly detached way. He might as well have been a doctor in a TV show. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Jeongin’s mom purses her lips. “Let’s go home. I’ll just put on my shoes.”

Jeongin, for once, hates being sandwiched between them like this. _Daddy was so worried awhile ago, but how come when we actually find Mommy, he acts like this? What’s up with that?_ He helps his mother up, because she seems weak, and even ties the shoelaces on her sneakers for her.

“Thank you, baby.” Jeongin’s mom pats him on the head again. She glances at Jeongin’s dad, then away.

_Why are they being like this?_ Jeongin slings one of his mom’s arms over his shoulders to help her hobble over to the door.

“No thank you, I’m really fine.”

Jeongin’s dad starts fishing in his jeans pocket. “Wait in the lobby. I’ll get the car.”

“Okay.” Jeongin’s mom says. She lets Jeongin help her to the hospital lobby, then asks that they sit on one of the benches.

“Are you really okay, Mommy?” Jeongin asks, standing by the bench. _I don’t need to sit down, so I should leave it free for other people, right? Even if I look kinda dumb?_

“Yeah, I just forgot how terrible everything is when you’re pregnant.” Jeongin’s mom laughs.

_What._

“Jeonginnie? Are you okay?” Jeongin’s mom pats him on the cheek, frowning at his expression. “What’s wrong?”

Jeongin keeps staring at her, his brain going blank in a panic. _Am I going to be… a big brother????_

_A few days later_

“Mr. Bang, I’m afraid that we’re going to have to call your parents to the school.”

Chan stiffens up in his seat. “But Teacher K-”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the rule.” His homeroom teacher takes her reading glasses off with a long sigh. “This is your third warning. We have to call your parents.”

Chan’s heart is pounding away in his chest. _If my parents hear about this…_

“Isn’t there anything I can do to save my grade? I can do extra work, like an extra project or paper or -”

“Chan, I’m sorry, but you’re having trouble keeping up with the _normal_ amount of work.” His homeroom teacher sighs. “I wish there were an alternative, but this is all I can do.”

_What_ exactly _does it do? They’ll tell my parents that I’m failing three subjects and I might not graduate, and then what? My parents will go fucking crazy, and for what?_

Chan takes a deep breath. _It’s not their fault, Chan, it’s your own._

“I understand, Teacher.” Chan nods solemnly. “I’ll let them know when I get home today.”

His homeroom teacher looks at him for a long time, like she’s looking for something on his face. Chan wishes she would just stop, because he’s upset and embarrassed enough without anyone pitying him.

She holds out a plain white envelope bearing the school’s crest. “Please give them this letter.”

“Yes, Teacher.” Chan bows as he takes the letter from her.

 

Woojin’s sitting on a low ledge by the back of a school, trying to balance his lunch container on one knee, when someone suddenly says, “Hey Captain.”

Woojin manages to catch his container of rice, but his beef tumbles down onto the gravel.

He glares up at Minho. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Minho shrugs, glancing down at the gravelly beef with a small sigh. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to eat with us.”

He nods over at a bunch of boys and girls who look about as unmotivated as Minho, sitting on a giant picnic blanket set up dangerously close to the school’s cordoned off generator. _Don’t be so judgmental,_ Woojin warns himself, but what else can he think? The school uniforms seems to be, for them, just a suggestion, and they’re sitting piled on top of each other like puppies, regardless of gender.

One of the girls waves at him with a lit cigarette between two fingers.

Woojin turns back to Minho with a scowl. “No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Minho shrugs. He turns to go, but then he seems to remember something, and comes right back.

_Like a boomerang,_ Woojin thinks, rolling his eyes. _An_ annoying _boomerang._

“What do you want, Minho?”

“Why _have_ you been eating out here anyway?” Minho waves a hand in the hot, dusty air around them. “Aren’t you more of an inside dog?”

Woojin glowers at him again. “Call me a dog again and you will seriously regret-”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Cap, that’s just what we call the people who eat lunch in the cafeteria.” Minho laughs nervously, backing off a few steps. His hands rise to protect his face. “You know, like those little furry, _frail_ kinda dogs that can’t leave the house.”

“Is that supposed to make it less offensive?” Woojin grumbles, putting his bowl of rice aside as he stands up.

Minho backs up into a column, wincing when he hits it. “Woah, calm down, Cap, you don’t wanna get into trouble again.”

Woojin uncurls his fist. _He’s right. He’s obnoxious as hell, but he’s right._

“We were just trying to be friendly, ok?” Minho’s hands are still shielding his face as he continues, “You looked a little lonely here all by yourself. Well, not a _little_ lonely, a _lot_ lonely. Very lonely. The loneliest-”

“Fuck off, Minho.” Woojin covers his rice and throws it back into his lunch box. His appetite is gone, or whatever’s been left of it recently. “Go smoke with your friends or something.”

“Oh, I don’t smoke anymore.” Minho waves his hands aggressively, like he’s erasing a board with both hands. “Jisung doesn’t like the taste in his mouth.”

It takes Woojin a whole minute to figure out that Minho’s talking about that little Weevil, the one who runs fast. _And that he and Minho… that Minho and he… eurrrhghhhhrh._ He makes a face. “I didn’t need to know that.”

A smug little smirk crosses Minho’s lips. “Sorry.”

Woojin remembers the little plastic brick tucked in a drawer by his bed. “Your boyfriend’s one of the Weevils, right?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that, _right_?” Minho says, in a bad approximation of Woojin’s voice. He catches the death glare Woojin’s giving him, and immediately says, “Sorry, Cap, go on.”

“Can you, uh, pass something on to their captain for me?” Woojin regrets saying at soon as the words leave his mouth, because Minho’s smirk has curled up into a full-out shit-eating grin.

“Oooh, interesting. What kind of _something_?” Minho says, using just a _bit_ too much tongue as he does.

“Don’t be disgusting.” Woojin snaps at him, feeling his face burn. _Why do I let this stupid demon bother me?_ “It’s just his phone.”

Minho looks surprised. “And _why_ do you have his phone?”

“Because he left it at my house, idiot.” Woojin grumbles, immediately regretting saying _that_.

“And what the _fuck_ was the Weevils’ captain doing in _your_ house, Cap?”

Woojin clenches his jaw, look away from Minho to try to hide the burning red on his entire face. “Nothing. He was making a delivery. Can you give him the phone or not?”

“I could,” Minho nods, and for a second Woojin feels ready to forgive the little shit for all his past transgressions. “But I’d rather see you give it to him yourself.”

_That little-_

Woojin lifts a fist, but Minho squawks out, “Remember what happened last time!”

Woojin lowers his fist. “Coach Park would probably forgive even me for punching _you_ in the face. You fucking deserve it.”

“Thanks, Cap, I do my best,” Minho bows graciously. He winks at Woojin. “So, I’ll see you at the Weevils’ game on Saturday?”

Woojin heaves a sigh, the kind of tired sigh of someone who’s just stepped out of his car to find that he’d accidentally locked the keys inside. “See you there.”

 

_Saturday_

Hyunjin looks up at the bleachers shielding his eyes from the rain with one hand. His brother’s not there. _Where…_

“Hey.”

Hyunjin jumps when his brother seems to materialize out of nowhere.

“Take this.” Jinyoung says, handing Hyunjin his cap. Actually, he kind of throws it at Hyunjin and starts running back up the bleachers. “Good luck!”

Hyunjin turns the soggy cap over in his hands. It’s an old cap, from the time that the Weevils had grey uniforms, and a grey mascot, before the principal had decided to liven it up with fuchsia a few years ago.

He smiles up at his brother, who’s putting two thumbs up in the rain.

“Gather round, boys,” Coach Im puts one heavy arm around Jisung and another around Chan. “So, uh, this is a big thing.”

_Kind of an understatement._

“For us, I mean. It’s a big thing for us. Semifinals,” Coach Im nods slowly. Beads of sweat are trickling down his forehead like little waterfalls, and his usually cheerful pink face is paper-white. “Let’s just go out there today and…”

Hyunjin and the rest of the team wait for their coach to finish his sentence, but it’s been over a minute and Coach Im’s still staring into space.

“And what, Coach?” Chan asks helpfully.

“And uh, let’s go out there.” Coach says with conviction. “Go Weevils.”

“Go Weevils.” Changbin echoes, his energy a thousand times lower than usual.

“Woo.”

“Yeah.”

 

“You made it!” Minho’s waving from under an umbrella.

Woojin had forgotten to bring one. Actually, he _never_ brings one, because his chauffeur drives him to and from everywhere he needs to go, so he usually doesn’t need one.

_Usually._

Woojin has no choice but to job up a few steps of the bleachers and duck under Minho’s umbrella. “Hi.”

“For all the money that this school has,” Minho rolls his eyes. “They couldn’t afford to put a roof over their damn bleachers.”

Woojin shrugs in agreement. _I shouldn’t even be here._

“Do you have the phone?”

Woojin shoots him a look that says, _Do you honestly think I would waste my time on a rainy Saturday morning and haul my ass halfway across the city for_ nothing _?_

“Ok, got it, jeez.” Minho looks back at the field, where the two teams are taking their positions. He’s gripping the handle of the umbrella so tightly that his knuckles are starting to go white.

_If it were anyone but Minho,_ Woojin thinks. _It would’ve been cute how worried he is about this game._

“Crap, they’re batting first.” Minho mutters under his breath.

Woojin watches the first Weevil, the freckled freshman, step up to plate looking like a fuchsia little mushroom against the fielding team’s elegant orange and navy-blue uniforms.

Someone in the row before them waves a matching navy-blue banner with _NC Tech_ sewn on it in big orange letters.

Woojin suddenly remembers the flag hanging in that room, the one at the end of the hallway.

_“Who owns the room at the end of the hallway?” Woojin had asked the head of housekeeping the morning after he and Chan had discovered the room._

_“It’s a storage room.”_

_“I went in there yesterday.” Woojin hadn’t missed the weird, surprised look on the head of housekeeping’s face._

_“You did?” The head of housekeeping had gone pale, the same kind of pale he goes whenever Woojin’s father gets angry and threatens to fire him._

_“By accident. I dropped something and it went under the door.” Woojin had said, knowing that he and the head of housekeeping both knew it was a blatant lie. “It’s a girl’s bedroom.”_

_The head of housekeeping’s hands had started to shake then. “I don’t know, I’ve never been in there. I was told it was a storage room, and I never que-”_

_“Whose room is it?” Woojin had asked, before changing his mind and asking, “Whose room_ was _it?”_

_“I- I don’t know.”_

_Woojin’s mother had called for the head of housekeeping then, and he had never looked more relieved to have to attend to Woojin’s mother’s endless complaints._

_When Woojin had gathered up the courage to try the door at the end of the hallway after breakfast, it had been locked._

“…Scary.”

Woojin realizes that Minho’s been talking all this time. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, _these guys are scary_ ,” Minho says, sounding irritated that he doesn’t have Woojin’s undivided attention.

Woojin squints down at the NC Tech Tigers, who all shift in creepy synchronization when their coach blows his whistle. _I’d like to see the Weevils try_ that _,_ Woojin thinks, grinning to himself.

 

Felix turns the bat around in his grip. It feels wrong today, like he’s carrying a big spoon or something.

It’s not the rain. He’s played in the rain before. Actually, Felix kind of likes playing in the rain, because it doesn’t get too hot.

_It’s them_ , he realizes, trying to evade the cold glare of the Tigers’ pitcher. _He’s_ _too handsome_ , Felix thinks, squinting at the ridiculously good-looking pitcher like he’s staring at the sun. _It’s scary._

“GO FELIX!” Chan’s voice carries from the dugout. “YOU CAN DO IT!”

The Tigers’ catcher snickers. “Is that your mom?”

Felix frowns at him, unable to string together any kind of reply. _Why is_ he _too handsome too? What is_ in _their food?_

Felix’s hands are shaking so hard that the bat’s starting to slip in his grip.

The ball flies past just as he’s adjusting his hands on the bat.

“STRIKE!”

_Hey, I wasn’t ready yet,_ Felix bites his lip, adjusting his hands again. The bat is slipping through his fingers like wet spaghetti.

The Tigers’ pitcher narrows his eyes again. Even if he’s a couple meters away, and his image is a little blurred in the rain, Felix finds himself getting lost in the other guy’s eyes.

“STRIKE!”

Felix blinks. He hadn’t even heard the ball fly past.

He looks back at his teammates, who are starting to look worried. _The Tigers’ pitcher is fast, efficient, and really fucking beautiful._ Felix’s heart sinks as he realizes that he doesn’t have much of a chance against him.

“STRIKE!”

Felix trudges past the overexcited umpire, eyes trained on the muddy ground. “Sorry, guys.”

“It’s okay, Felix, you did good.” Chan says, clapping Felix on the back.

“Yeah,” Coach Im agrees. “It was a good effort.”

_What effort?_

“Is he new?” Woojin asks, pointing at the pitcher currently one more strike away from shutting the Weevils out for an entire inning. They – the Bears, of course – had beaten NC Tech in the semifinals for the past couple of years, but Woojin doesn’t recognize this guy.

_Granted, he’s a little dot and it’s starting to rain pretty hard, but NC Tech didn’t seem to have anyone_ this _good last year._

“No, he used to be their backup, but the main guy graduated,” Minho says, rattling off everything he knows like a very, very bored Siri. “His name’s Lee Jeno, he’s a junior.”

“He’s seems really good,” Woojin says, feeling this strange tickling sensation in his ribcage. _Just admit you’re a jerk and you like the competition, Woojin. And that you think you’re the best. Asshole._

“He’s really hot, too.” Minho grins for a moment, then frowns when Jisung strikes out on the field below. “Damn him.”

Woojin watches Chan – the kind of sluggish, lazy-looking figure slouching out of the Weevils’ dugout couldn’t be anyone else – step up to plate. He can’t see Chan’s face, obviously, but Chan’s shoulders look so tense that they seem to have shrunk a few centimeters.

Woojin feels for the phone in the inner pocket of his jacket, though he’s not sure why. _I don’t need to remind myself it’s here, I already know that._

_Relax, Woojin, it’s not your game. It doesn’t concern you._

Woojin holds his breath when the Tigers’ pitcher releases the ball.

“STRIKE!” The umpire calls out.

Woojin sits up straighter, knocking his head into Minho’s umbrella. “That was _not_ a strike.”

“No shit it wasn’t,” Minho grumbles, stomping on the bleachers, much to the annoyance of the Tigers’ supporters in front of them.

Even Chan, who normally gives a good-natured shrug when he gets a strike (not that Woojin watches him that closely, of course), turns back to his coach with a frown on his face.

Woojin peers down at the Weevils’ new coach, who seems utterly lost. _Well crap._

The Tigers’ pitcher winds up again, as if he doesn’t care about anything or anyone else.

The ball flies almost as low as Chan’s ankles.

“STRIKE!”

_I take it back. This pitcher’s no match for me. This team is crap, and their school is crap…_

Woojin throws his hands. “This is bullshit.”

“I know NC Tech buys umpires off, but this is just ridiculous.” Minho uncrosses his arms to cup his hands around his mouth and scream, “THAT WAS A _BALL_ , YOU BALLSACK!”

The woman carrying the NC Tech banner in front of them turns partway to shoot a dirty look at Minho.

 

Chan turns back to the pitcher, grinding his teeth. He lifts the bat and zeroes in all his attention towards the Tigers’ pitcher.

_I dare you to try that on me again._ Chan stares the other team’s pitcher down. _I have had one hell of a week and I’m running out of patience._

The ball leaves the other pitcher’s hand, careening straight towards… Chan.

Chan jumps out of the way, and the ball smacks into their catcher’s glove. Chan frowns down at the Tigers’ catcher, who just gives him a dead, bored look back.

“STRIKE! OUT!” The umpire calls out gleefully.

Chan turns to the umpire. “He nearly hit me, that’s not-”

“Don’t cause delays or we’ll dock points.” The umpire warns him.

For a moment, Chan considers lifting the bat in his hands and giving it an _accidental_ swing in the wrong direction. Then the moment is over and he’s horrified that he’d even thought of it. He bows his head and apologizes to the umpire before walking back to the dugout.

_Stay calm, Chan, stay_ calm _._

Minho’s ready to punch someone in the face by the second inning.

“THIS IS BULLSHIT!” Minho shouts, and when the woman in front of him shoots him another bitchy look he shouts at her, “IT’S BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT!”

“Minho,” Woojin warns him, but his jaw is clenched so tightly that Minho could’ve traced the bone with a marker, if he were in the mood.

_God, this is bad, I’m not even in the mood to make fun of Cap._ Minho grips the umbrella handle so tightly his palm and fingers are starting to sting.

The dumbass playing umpire down below doesn’t seem to have a notion of subtlety. _If someone had paid_ me _off, I’d try to make it seem organic, at least,_ Minho thinks as the umpire calls another of Hyunjin’s perfect pitches a motherfucking _ball_.

The Tiger at bat lowers the bat and struts to first base.

Minho’s starting to wonder if anyone on NC Tech’s team is good at anything other than looking good.

 

Jisung nudges Changbin with his elbow and points at the umpire. “I hold him, and you punch?”

Changbin screws his face up into a worse scowl. “Fuck off, Mulan.”

“Fuck you, man. You’re up.” Jisung claps Changbin on the back as their batter walks back towards them, dragging his feet in annoyance.

“Their pitcher _blows_ ,” Hyunjoon mutters, making a rude motion with his hands and mouth as he hands Changbin the team’s one bat.

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jisung says defensively, squaring up to Hyunjoon.

“Sorry.” Hyunjoon blushes as he sits down on the bench.

_Yeah damn right, you’d better be sorry._ Jisung shoots his teammate one last sharp look before looking back at the field. He doesn’t know why he’s still watching this goddamn game when everyone knows how it’s going to turn out. _Maybe I’m an optimistic idiot that way. Maybe I just love setting myself up to get hurt._

_Where the fuck did_ that _come from, Jisung?_

Changbin wiggles his butt at he gets ready to bat.

Jisung snickers. _Changbin’s tiny ass is a beacon of joy in these trying times_.

The Tigers’ pitcher winds up – and he looks so damn _graceful_ doing it that it still takes Jisung’s breath away this time – and throws probably the worst pitch Jisung’s seen, his own included. The ball all but bounces on the dirt before reaching Changbin’s ankles.

“STRIKE!” The umpire calls. _Big surprise there._

“SON OF A BITCH!” Changbin curses loudly enough for everyone in the dugout to hear, and all the Weevils burst out laughing.

The umpire tells Changbin something that Jisung imagines is along the lines of, “No more swearing or we’re taking away from your team’s 0 points.” Changbin sets his jaw like a knife and wiggles his butt back into position.

The Tigers’ pitcher’s form is flawless again, as he throws this downright awful pitch that’s a meter too far away from Changbin.

But Changbin, being himself, seems to stretch his arm like it’s made of rubber, and extends his entire body to give the ball the kind of whack things get in carnival games.

The ball flies forward, passing in the space right between two Tigers, so they never figure out _whose_ it was supposed to be.

“RUN, CHANGBIN, RUUUUUUN!” Jisung screams, dropping to his knees in the dugout.

“RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!” Chan yells in an almost unintelligible roar.

“THAT’S MY CHANGBIN!” Felix howls, leaning so far out the dugout that he seems to be defying gravity.

Changbin seems to fly to first base, landing just as the ball smacks into the first baseman’s glove. Changbin starts hopping up and down, and the Weevils in the dugout follow suit.

Changbin’s yelling something over the rain, and it takes a moment for Jisung to realize he’s chanting their Song.

“…BOOTS WITH THE FUR!” Changbin yells.

“WITH THE FUR!” Jisung shouts back dutifully.

The umpire blows his whistle, and the Weevils shrink away.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Changbin shouts when the umpire asks him to go back to the plate.

“It was a foul ball.” The umpire says, with so much conviction that Changbin’s convinced the man is either dumb or currently being hypnotized.

“Foul ball my _ass_!” Changbin wags a fist at the umpire.

“If you hit me, we’ll have to take away points-”

“Oh shut up!” Changbin shouts as he drags his feet through the mud on his way back to the plate. “You can’t take away from _nothing_!”

“Uh, yeah you can.” The Tigers’ catcher rolls his eyes so hard that Changbin sees it through the mask, through the rain. “It’s called negative numbers.”

“Your face is a negative number.” Changbin lifts the bat, but not at the Tigers’ catcher.

“Uh, _my_ face is definitely _not_ ,” The Tigers’ catcher snorts with all the confidence in the world. “Ever heard of a mirror, dude?”

Changbin is ready to smack the guy’s face in, but Coach Im and Cap are waving their hands wildly to say, _Don’t do it, Changbin! Don’t bash that smug_ bitch’s _cute face in!_

Changbin decides that he, as the _clearly_ more handsome person between the two of them, should be gracious enough to not smack this guy with a metal bat. He turns back to the Tigers’ pitcher.

_Oh, there’s no arguing with_ that _guy,_ Changbin thinks. _He’s really working this whole wet look thing._

The Tigers’ pitcher lifts his throwing arm and, with a flashy little kick, throws the ball.

Changbin’s never seen a worse pitch, Jisung’s attempts included.

He tries to jump out of the way, but one of his shoes gets caught in the mud and the ball smacks him neatly in the arm.

Changbin flinches, feeling electricity shoot down his arm. _SON OF A BITCH._

 

“CHANGBIN!” Felix jumps to his feet.

Chan’s glad his reflexes are fast enough to catch Felix before the freshman runs onto the field and downs the Tigers’ pitcher with a spinning kick to the head. “Felix, no!”

“HE HIT CHANGBIN!” Felix struggles against Chan’s bear hug. “HE DESERVES TO _DIE_!”

“SAME BUT LIKE, NOT SAME!” Jisung screams, and Chan has to throw an arm out to clothesline him.

“We’re not fighting _anyone_!” Chan barks at them, which surprises everyone, Chan included. Chan takes a few deep breaths. “We will play this game _properly_ , to the end.”

Felix and Jisung, and the other Weevils, who’d been ready to go to war for Changbin, gape at Chan. Chan wonders if he’d said anything weird or mean, but he thinks about it, and he doesn’t find anything wrong with what he’d said. _So why are they reacting like this?_

“Cap…” Hyunjin says slowly.

Coach Im returns with Changbin, whom the umpire had just called out.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Coach Im assures them, patting Changbin on the good arm.

Chan’s not so sure about that.

“Can you move your arm?” Chan asks when the other Weevils slide off the bench to give Changbin altogether too much space for one Changbin.

Changbin tries to lift his left arm, but he winces in pain. “Kinda.”

“Take it easy,” Coach Im puts a hand on Changbin’s shoulder. Then their coach grimaces when he notices something from the field.

Chan turns to find the umpire signaling for them to stop delaying the game. He looks back at Coach Im, who looks apprehensive.

_Poor Coach Im. It’s his first game back and things are going like_ this _._ Chan looks up at the stands, but he can’t see what Coach Park – _uh, Hyunjin’s brother_ – looks like right now. _Probably pissed as hell._

Coach Im on the other hand, looks like a toddler in a shopping mall who doesn’t even have the sense to ask the security to page his parents.

_Why are you being so mean today?_ Chan scowls at himself. _Even if you’ve had a shitty week, you shouldn’t take it out on other people._

“Hey! Next batter!” The umpire shouts.

Chan’s about to think some other mean thing about the umpire not having seen a baseball game before, then he realizes the next batter is _him_.

_Shit._

 

Jinyoung sits back down on the wet bench. _Don’t interfere, don’t interfere, don’t interfere…_

He’d had a beer with Coach Im the week before, though he still isn’t entirely sure why he’d done it. Maybe just to confirm that the other coach is an inadequate, incompetent mess.

_Other coach? Stop fucking around, Jinyoung, you’re not a coach anymore. You never really were one. You were just doing that to waste time until you got a real job. The school was paying you dirt-_

Jinyoung leans forward to try to see how Changbin’s doing. The kid might look and act all tough, but he’s about as tough as a mini marshmallow.

Changbin seems to be whining, but at least he’s sitting upright and still able to wrestle Felix off of him. Jinyoung heaves a sigh of relief.

He looks back at the field, where Chan’s walking up to the plate.

Jinyoung clasps his hands together. He doesn’t pray much, if at all, but today he’s sending out a message to whichever god might be listening.

The Tigers’ pitcher winds up, and his form looks perfect, even though Jinyoung can see his balance is actually quite terrible and he’s throwing his shoulder a little with every pitch.

The ball seems to flying into a grounder. From Jinyoung’s perspective, it’s just too low to be anything but a _Ball_ with a capital B, though he knows that the umpire’s been bribed blind and will definitely call it a strike.

 

Chan’s never been more frustrated with a game, which is saying something, considering he’s been doing little else but lose games since he was a freshman. _Losing is one thing, but this… this isn’t losing, it’s acting like fucking fools while the other team cheats right to our faces._

If there’s anything Chan can’t live with, it’s cheaters.

_Like Woojin._ Chan shakes his head. This isn’t the time to be thinking about him. Woojin’s been buried under the mountain of Chan’s other problems.

Chan watches the Tigers’ pitcher as he does another flawless windup for another inevitably terrible pitch.

_Two can play at that crappy game, dude._ Chan twists the bat in his grip when he sees the ball fly downward.

Chan lowers the bat and swings it like a golf club. He even grins when the bat slams into the ball with a loud _ping_!

He doesn’t wait around to see what had happened. When the ball starts flying, Chan starts running. He runs for all he’s worth, ignoring the mad scramble of the Tigers, the screams from the dugout, and the rain splattering in his face. Chan slips before the second base, tumbles in the mud for a bit, then gets up and starts running again.

 

Donghyuck, the Tigers’ catcher, has been having a _morning_. He’s never been onboard with this whole buying-off-the-umpire thing, not because it’s dishonest (okay, so his Mama didn’t raise a fucking cheater), but because bribing the officials is a _huge_ insult to his talent.

_I train for_ hours _every fucking week just to NOT FUCKING PLAY??? What a fucking joke,_ he thinks, just as the Weevil currently at bat swings the bat like a toddler. Donghyuck has half a mind to just throw his glove and mask down and fucking walk out of here.

Then he realizes that the Weevil had actually _hit the ball._ And the ball is flying.

He hopes their outfielders haven’t fallen asleep, and that they’ll catch the ball, but then he realizes that the ball seems to be still climbing, and it falls beyond NC Tech’s gym.

Donghyuck does the only thing he can do in this situation, and that is to _laugh_.

The third baseman attemps to block the Weevil, who’s running so fast he seems to be skating over the mud. It’s no use. The Weevil just bowls him over and leaves a muddy footprint on the third base as he skids the corner and starts for Donghyuck.

_Good on you, Weevil._ Donghyuck thinks, stepping politely out of the way as the Weevil finishes his home run, skidding to a stop in the mud just past the home plate. _That’s how you fucking show em._

Donghyuck wishes he had the balls to give this guy a standing ovation, but he’s got a scholarship on the line, so he pretends to be upset and nods in agreement when the dumbass umpire starts saying dumb shit.

 

Chan’s covered in mud, and his heart is pounding in his ears from the mad sprint he’d just made to the home plate.

He can see the umpire’s mouth moving, but he can’t really get what he’s saying. _Does it fucking matter at this point? There’s no way he can argue with a home run-_

“…call it void.” The umpire says, making a cross with his arms to get the idea across to Chan.

Chan stands up, walking towards the umpire. “Excuse me?”

He sees Coach Im jump out of the dugout out of the corner of his eye, and he knows that it’s his job to keep things from getting out of hand, but Chan’s just run the whole diamond in one go and he is _not_ taking any more bullshit.

He squares up to the umpire. “What did you say?”

“I said the point is void, since you weren’t holding the bat properly.” The umpire points back at the home plate. “I’ll call it a foul ball so we can move on.”

“It was a home run.” Chan huffs, taking a step closer to the umpire. “Even _you_ can’t deny that.”

“Go back while I’m still feeling generous.” The umpire jabs a finger at the home plate.

Chan steps forward again, until his chest is nearly in the much shorter umpire’s face. “Don’t even bother _pretending_ -”

“ _Chan._ ” Coach Im says, grabbing Chan by the arm. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Chan mutters, stomping back to the home plate.

He fishes the bat out of the mud, wipes it on his already dirty shirt, and faces the Tigers’ pitcher with his teeth bared. “Fucking try me!”

 

Woojin’s fists are curled so tight that his nails are leaving crescents in his palms. He can’t understand what the umpire’s saying, or what Chan’s saying, just that the latter looks ready to fight. _After being on the receiving end of that…_ Woojin secretly hopes Chan _does_ lose his temper at this goddamn umpire.

When Chan walks back to the plate and picks up the bat, Woojin is completely lost. He feels as if he’s watching a totally different game, like fucking cricket or something, because nothing is making sense to him anymore.

Chan shouts something at the Tigers’ pitcher, and the Tigers’ pitcher ignores him completely. The pitcher winds up for another go, and Chan’s entire body tenses up in anticipation.

Woojin draws a breath. _Please let Chan get this one. Please._

He hears this loud sound, and in the chaos that follows, Woojin thinks that Chan had actually hit it.

He stands up, along with everyone else in the stands. The Weevils are screaming, but then again, they always are.

Then Chan’s legs seem to give way, and he crumples to the ground.

Woojin’s breath catches in his throat.

_Chan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE CHRISTOPHER PLEASE DON'T COME @ ME
> 
> anyway I'm sorry that I haven't been able to go through the comments much in the past few days, it's been pretty busy at work lately, but I really do appreciate them all and I'll try harder to reply to everyone 💖💖💖 
> 
> Next chapter's also a long one, so stay tuned!


	35. 24-0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadows cast by the Weevils on Woojin and Chan clear up, giving Woojin enough light, even in the rain, to see Chan’s face more clearly.
> 
> He wishes he couldn’t. Chan looks terrible, and he doesn’t seem to be moving or breathing or even alive at all. Woojin knows he is, because he can feel a faint pulse in Chan’s wrist when he holds it, and it’s not just his own, because it’s nowhere near as frantic. 
> 
> “Please get up, Chan,” Woojin begs, wrapping his hands around one of Chan’s clammy hands. “Don’t be like this.”

_Chan had waited for his siblings’ bedtime before he’d given his parents the letter._

_“What is this?” His dad had asked._

_“It’s from school.”_

_“Give it to your mother.”_

_Chan had sighed then. He’d hoped to get his dad on his side before facing his mom, but that wasn’t the way things were working out, he supposed._

_“Mama,” Chan had said, finding is mother wringing out some damp towels in the kitchen. “There’s a letter here from school.”_

_“Give me a minute.” His mother had said. “Or just read it to me. What’s it about?”_

_Chan had tried to swallow then, but his throat had gone dry. “It’s about my grades.”_

_“What of them? Are they low?”_

_“Uh… yes. Not all of them,” Chan had said in his own defense. “Just three subjects.”_

_“Do I need to talk to your teachers? Are they giving you a hard time?”_

_“No.” Chan’s history teacher especially, had been nothing but kind to him. It’s his own fault that things had gotten this much out of hand. “I’m failing three subjects, Mama.”_

_His mother had stopped wringing a towel then. “And?”_

_“And I might not graduate this year.”_

_The towel had fallen to the bottom of the sink with a loud slap. His mother had started breathing heavily, like she’d just run a mile._

_Chan had gripped the envelope tightly, crumpling it a little in one hand. “I’m sorry, Mama.”_

_“There’s nothing else you can do?” Chan’s mom had asked, her voice croaking a little in desperation. “No extra work or anything?”_

_That’s not what Chan had expected. He’d expected her to shout, like she only does when she’s tired out of her mind, or throw a towel at him in exasperation. But his mom’s shoulders had just sagged in defeat when Chan had said, “No, Mama, I already asked.”_

_Chan’s mom had dried her hands on her shirt and turned to him with slightly reddish, watery eyes._

_“Oh, Mama, don’t cry.” Chan had managed to choke out, but his vision had started to go blurry._

_“I’m sorry for making you work, and watch your brothers and sisters,” Chan’s mom had sniffled. “I’m sorry you couldn’t focus on- on school and- and-”_

_“Mama, it’s not your fault, don’t say that.” Chan had put his arms around her, letting her sob into his shirt. “I could’ve studied harder, Mama, it’s me.”_

_“No, Chan, I know you’re already doing your best. I’m so sorry.”_

_Chan’s clasmmates had been talking about college again, and which universities they’re going to._

_“What about you, Chan?”_

_“Oh, uh,” Chan had just scratched his head. They don’t know, of course, that Chan might not even graduate from high school with them. How could they?_

_“Come on, he’s gonna get a sports scholarship. He’s on another level from us.”_

_“Have you gotten any offers from any universities?”_

_“No.” Chan admits. He’d been disappointed that he hadn’t gotten anything till now, but that’s nothing compared to the disappointment hanging over him all the time now._

_“He’s just being modest, he won’t tell us.”_

_“Good on you, Chan.”_

_Chan had just thanked them blankly and gone back to the math homework he didn’t understand._

_Miya had figured it out, of course._

_“I heard Mama and Dad talking about it.” Miya had blocked the door to the bathroom._

_“Miya, I need to take a dump.” Chan had said._

_“No.” Miya had stretched her arms out. “What are you going to do?”_

_“Take a big, long poop.”_

_“OpPA!” Miya had kicked him in the shins. “BE SERIOUS!”_

_Chan had had to bend over in pain, not even pretending._ We should sign Miya up for football… or taekwondo.

_“What are you going to do???”_

_“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what to do.” Chan had lain down flat on the floor of their room._

_“But you’re the big brother.” Miya had said. “You_ have _to go to college, and you- You just_ have _to, or the rest of us are gonna- You_ have _to!”_

_“I’m sorry, Miya.” Chan had felt utterly defeated when he’d heard his little sister start crying. “I’m really sorry.”_

Chan had seen it coming, of course.

The failing three subjects thing, yeah, definitely. _And_ the ball. He’d seen the ball leave the Tigers’ pitcher’s hand, and the shocked look on his face, but Chan doesn’t know why he didn’t get out of the way. He probably could’ve dodged it a little, but he doesn’t.

So the last thing he sees is the baseball coming close to his face, the last thing he hears is this loud ringing in his ears, and the last thing he feels his his body hitting the soft mud below.

 

Woojin’s running down the stairs, pushing past the Tigers’ supporters faking concern for the boy currenly lying in the mud beside the home plate. He doesn’t even have time or energy to be pissed at them, he just _runs_.

Coach Park – the Weevils’ Coach Park, of course – comes up right behind Woojin and grabs the latter by the arm. “Stop, Woojin, don’t-”

Woojin shakes his arm free and keeps running towards the field, vaulting over a fence as he does.

The rest of the Weevils had broken out of the dugout, and are crowding around Chan when Woojin gets there. The umpire’s blowing his whistle, the Weevils’ other coach is arguing with him, and the Tigers’ coach is shouting something.

Woojin squeezes into the crowd of Weevils. “Move! Give him space!” He growls at them, and they start to clear off.

Chan’s eyes are shut, and his chest is barely moving up and down.

Woojin kneels next to Chan, and his jeans are the last thing on his mind as he bends down to tap Chan on the shoulders. “Chan! Please wake up!”

“Go, give him air,” Woojin hears Coach Park says behind him. “Yes, hello, I’d like to report an emergency – Boys, _please_. Clear off. Give Cap space. – No, not you. Yes, I’m here at NC Tech High School…”

The shadows cast by the Weevils on Woojin and Chan clear up, giving Woojin enough light, even in the rain, to see Chan’s face more clearly.

He wishes he couldn’t. Chan looks terrible, and he doesn’t seem to be moving or breathing or even _alive_ at all. Woojin knows he is, because he can feel a faint pulse in Chan’s wrist when he holds it, and it’s not just his own, because it’s nowhere near as frantic.

“Please get up, Chan,” Woojin begs, wrapping his hands around one of Chan’s clammy hands. “Don’t be like this.”

“…Yes, he’s unconscious. No. No. All right, thank you.” Coach Park pockets his phone and squats next to Woojin, placing a hand on Woojin’s shoulder. “Woojin.”

“If you’re going to ask me to leave, I’m not going to.”

“I was going to ask you to keep an eye on Chan.” Coach Park says gently. “While I take care of the other boys.”

Woojin looks back at the Weevils, who’ve clumped up into a terrified crowd, watching Chan’s unmoving body with wide eyes. Woojin knows _he’d_ be devastated if anything bad happened to Chan, but the Weevils… they’d be inconsolable.

“Okay.” Woojin holds onto Chan’s chilly hand, rubbing one thumb over it. “Come on, Chan.”

 

“Jeno, what the _fuck_!” Donghyuck shoves Jeno against the wall when they’re back in their locker room after the game. The Weevils’ captain had been rushed to the hospital, but the umpire – the one Donghyuck really wanted to kick in the nuts – had insisted that they play on even without him. So they had, and unsurprisingly, the Tigers had walked back into their locker room with a win that mad Donghyuck sick to his stomach. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I- It was an accident, I swear,” Jeno says, his hands trembling as he grips the handle of his locker. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Damn right he didn’t.” Their shortstop says, stepping between Donghyuck and Jeno. “So get off his fucking case, it’s not going to help anyone.”

“Fuck you, Jaemin.” Donghyuck turns and grabs his things from his own locker. “Fuck all this. I quit.”

“You can’t. You have a scholarship.” Jaemin reminds him.

“Oh fuck that.” Donghyuck slings his bag over one shoulder.

 

“Woojin.”

Woojin looks away from his wringing hands to frown up at Coach Park.

“I’ve got to go get my brother.” Coach Park looks around the waiting area outside the emergency room. There’s a handful of anxious old people who had been giving them pitying looks since they’d arrived with Chan on a gurney. “The game’s over.”

“Oh.” Woojin says blankly. “Is it?”

“24-0.”

Woojin vaguely feels like he should be pissed off. “Oh.”

“Coach Im said Chan’s parents are on their way.” Coach Park looks back at the emergency room’s doors. “You don’t have to wait for them to arrive.”

_But I will,_ Woojin thinks, not because of some immense loyalty to Chan, but because he just doesn’t know what else to do. He’d skipped a session at his cram school for this game, sneaking past his chauffeur to take a taxi to NC Tech. If he comes home now, his father’s definitely going to throw a fit. If he leaves the hospital now, he doesn’t know where he’ll go.

He feels a vibration in his pocket and ignores it. That’s probably the chauffeur wondering where he is. Or worse, maybe the chauffeur had already told his parents, and that’s _them_ looking for him.

The doors to the emergency room swing open, and a doctor trailed by a huddle of interns walk out murmuring too softly for Woojin to hear, but loudly enough that he knows they’re talking about something urgent.

_Of course they are, they’re working in an emergency room. Everything is urgent there._

Woojin swallows his heart back down and pats his jacket. He pulls out his phone to reject the call, but finds that no one’s calling him. _What?_

His other pocket keeps vibrating.

_Oh. Oh shit._

Woojin pulls out Chan’s phone, and finds the display lit a faint greenish color with the word _Mama_ on it.

Woojin doesn’t know if he ought to leave it until the call drops, but the other people in the waiting area are starting to give him strange looks.

“Hello?” Woojin asks, listening to the static crackle of the phone’s speakers.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“This is Woojin, I’m Chan’s… friend.” Woojin makes a face at himself. He didn’t want to lie to Chan’s mother, but he would’ve freaked her out more if he’d tried to explain things.

“Where’s Chan? Can I speak to him?”

Woojin takes a deep breath. “He’s uh… We’re in S------- Hospital and the doctors are still seeing to him.”

There’s a choked noise from the other end, and it breaks Woojin’s heart.

“Thank you.” Chan’s mother says after a long pause, right before hanging up.

Woojin pockets the phone again and goes back to wringing his hands together. There’s nothing else for him to do, and he’s never been good at waiting.

 

“I’ll wait for you here,” Jeongin’s mom says, pointing at the hospital lobby.

“Ok. Text me when you’re finished.” Jeongin’s dad replies, rolling up the window and driving away.

Jeongin’s mom sighs. She hasn’t gotten into a fight with her husband in a long time, and she’d forgotten how awful everything was when they were fighting.

She’d forgotten a lot of things, really. Like how she could barely sit up in the morning without throwing up, or how everything she ate tasted weird to her, or how _heavy_ her body felt even if her tummy never really got that big.

Jeongin’s mom steps into the hospital’s lobby, and the first thing she sees is Woojin standing to one side, looking lost, damp, and confused.

_Everything’s really like old times, isn’t it?_ She sighs, walking over. She’s still mad at Woojin, for sure, because she just _has_ to take her son’s side in everything. But the way Woojin looks right now… she can’t help but feel bad for him. And worry that something terrible might have happened.

“Hello, Woojin?”

The boy jumps, staring at her with wide eyes. “H- Hello J- Jeongin’s mom.”

“What are you doing here?” Jeongin’s mom asks. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“The captain of- One of my friends got hurt.” Woojin says. “But his family is here, so I- I have to go now.”

Jeongin’s mom pats Woojin’s arm reassuringly. She wants to give him a hug, of course, but that might rattle him even more. “How are you getting home?”

“I’m not.” Woojin says, then he seems to frown at himself, wondering why he’d said that to her. “I mean, uh, _taxi_.”

Jeongin’s mom sighs. “You’re not going home?”

“N- No. I mean yes. Not now. Just not now.” Woojin says. He gives her a desperate, pleading look. “Please don’t tell my parents.”

“I promise I won’t.” Jeongin’s mom says gently. _But I can’t just leave him here. He’s still a kid._ “Woojin?”

It takes a little too long for the boy to reply, “Y- Yes?”

“Have you had lunch?”

“No.”

Jeongin’s mom glances at the giant wall clock. It’s nearly one in the afternoon. “Would you like to have lunch with m-?”

“No thank you.” Woojin says, even before Jeongin’s mom finishes her sentence.

She clenches her jaw. _What do I do now?_

“How about you buy me lunch?” Jeongin’s mom says, almost laughing at the puzzled look that crosses Woojin’s face. “It’s the least you can do for getting my son kicked out of Team A.”

Woojin’s entire face goes red. “I’m sorry.”

 

Woojin’s been sitting across a table from Jeongin’s mother for the past twenty minutes, but it still hasn’t sunk in why he’s here or what he’s doing. _What does she want with me? This is a really fucking weird way to get revenge._

“Did you have a game today?” She asks him.

“No.” Woojin answers as politely and distantly as he can.

“What happened to your friend, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jeongin’s mother asks with the promptness of a professional interrogator.

“He got hit by a baseball. To the head.”

“Oh god.” Jeongin’s mom’s hands fly to cover her mouth. “How is he?”

“He’s got a concussion, but there doesn’t seem to be any major damage. He’s going to be all right.” Woojin says, mostly to himself.

“That’s… good.”

Woojin doesn’t think so. Coach Park had been talking to him outside the emergency room, or rather, Coach Park had been talking while Woojin stared off into space and nodded every now and then. _The Weevils might have another game up ahead. And Chan won’t be able to play._

_Chan would hate that._

Jeongin’s mother puts her empty mug of tea down and looks at the untouched sandwich on Woojin’s plate. “You should probably get that wrapped up to go.”

Woojin nods about half a minute later. He’s still worried about Chan, even if the doctors had assured him and Chan’s parents that Chan would be fine in about a week. _Sometimes things don’t turn out fine even if the doctors say so._

“I’m sorry to leave you so suddenly, but I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes,” Jeongin’s mother says.

Woojin frowns up at Jeongin’s mother. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I hope.” She grimaces at herself. “No, I’m sure the baby’s fine.”

_Baby?_ Woojin’s frown deepens. Jeongin’s mother looks anything but pregnant, but then again, what would Woojin know about that? _Does Jeongin know?_ He wonders, then he shakes his head. _Of course Jeongin knows, they’re not like_ your _family, Woojin, they actually talk to each other._

_So it’s pretty weird that she’d be going to this appointment alone._

“Are you alone?”

Jeongin’s mother blushes. “My husband’s boss called him in suddenly, and Jeongin’s at a friend’s house working on some group project… Would you like to come with me?”

Woojin makes a face. _What the hell?_ “No.”

“Right. Sorry, Woojin. Forget I asked.” Jeongin’s mother blushes even harder. “Please don’t think I’m weird.”

_It’s too late for that now, lady._ “No, I don’t think you’re weird.”

Jeongin’s mother buries her face in her hands. “Sorry. I just… Things have been really _crappy_ lately. Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s okay.” Woojin tries to put on a sympathetic look, but Jeongin’s mother is really weirding him out. All he wants to do is pay for their food and run out of the hospital right now. “Things have been bad for everyone, I think.”

Jeongin’s mother gives him a strange look. Well, stranger than everything up to this point. It’s as if she knows exactly what Woojin’s talking about. “Wait, did your parents kick you out?”

_No, she has no idea._ Woojin makes a face. “No, of course not.”

“Oh.” Jeongin’s mother sighs and even gives Woojin a weak smile. “That’s good. I was afraid that jerk would do it again.”

Woojin is utterly lost. “Do _what_ again?”

Jeongin’s mother opens her mouth to reply, but her phone starts buzzing on the table. _Appointment with Dr. Jung,_ it reads. “Oh crap, I’m late. I’m sorry for wasting your time, Woojin, I hope things turn out better for you. And your friend.”

Woojin stands up when she does. “You too.”

She smiles and gives his arm a little squeeze. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Woojin sits back down and stares at his sandwich. _What the_ fuck _just happened?_

Chan wakes up in a weird room. It’s weird because it’s big and airy, and the bed he’s on is the only one in it. It’s definitely not his room.

He sits up, but then he feels the floor shift under him, and lays back down again until the floor _stays down_.

He turns slowly onto his side, so slowly that it’s like he’s trying to trick his nauseous body into thinking he’s not actually moving at all. He finds a clean white bedside table next to him, and his phone perched on top of it.

Chan frowns. He’d lost his phone a week ago, in Woojin’s house. _When did Woojin return it?_

Chan tries to reach for his phone, but the floor seems to shift again, so he shuts his eyes and lies flat on his back until things stop moving.

_“Chan, please wake up.” Was the first thing Chan had heard when he’d woken up. It was Woojin, leaning over him with watery red eyes._

_Chan had sat up to find that the entire world was spinning around him, and he was lying on a bed that lurched around every other second or so. Only later would he realize that that was an ambulance, and he was being rushed to the hospital._

_“Please lie back down again,” Someone to his left had said. Chan didn’t recognize the voice, but he listened._

_Chan noticed something pressing on his hand, so he’d snuck a peek – which he instantly regretted, because the world had started spinning again – and found Woojin’s hand clasped around his own. He’d shut his eyes again, but the world had seemed to keep spinning irregardless._

_“Woojin?” He’d managed to croak out._

_“Yes?” Woojin’s voice had wavered, so Chan had given his hand a little squeeze._

_“Can I have a hug?”_

_The person to Chan’s left had said something again, but Woojin had ignored them. Chan had felt Woojin’s breath on his cheek even before Woojin’s arms wrapped around him. Chan had smiled._

_“Thank you.”_

_“What for?” Woojin had said, so close to Chan’s face that his cheek was starting to tingle._

_“Sorry.” Chan, eyes still shut, had turned his face a little to the right, and found something soft against his lips for a second, then it was gone._

_Woojin had jumped away, knocking into the wall of the ambulance with a loud clatter._

_“Sorry.” Chan had said again. “Should’ve asked for permission first.”_

_“N- No, it’s okay, I was just surprised.”_

_“Can we do that again?” Chan had asked, but he hadn’t heard Woojin’s reply. He’d tried opening his eyes again, but everything had stayed black. He’d fallen back asleep again._

Chan sits up with a start, then realizes his mistake as his stomach starts heaving. He clambers out of the wide, soft bed, and looks for something to throw up in.

_Shit. Everything in here is fancy as hell._ Chan fumbles around the room, which is still spinning around him like a top, and he’s trapped somewhere in the middle of it all. He finds a door, and opens it, hoping it’s a bathroom at the very least.

Chan finds himself kneeling in a carpeted hallway staring at a puddle of his own vomit. _Shit._

“Chan?” A woman’s voice calls down the hallway, but it’s not his mother.

_Where the hell am I? And how am I going to clean this up?_

He finds himself looking at a pair of white feet. He follows the feet up a long pair of legs in dark pants, up a very long frame to the face of his school’s vice principal.

Chan nearly passes out on the spot, and not because of nausea. _I just threw up on Vice Principal Bae’s carpet._

“S- Sorry, Vice Principal Bae.”

“It’s okay,” She replies, bending down to help Chan to his feet. “Someone will clean that up.”

Sure enough, Chan sees a middle-aged woman rushing down the hallway with a mop and a bucket.

“Where am I?” Chan asks, mortified that the vice principal is practically carrying him.

“My house. Your parents felt you needed space to rest away from your siblings, so I offered one of my guest rooms.” The vice principal opens the door to the room Chan had come from and helps him back inside.

One _of her guest rooms? How many does she have?_

“How did you know about…” Chan trails off, unsure of what exactly had happened to him. _I kissed Woojin, for one. That’s something._

“Jinyoung called me.” The vice principal helps him back onto the bed, tucking the covers up to Chan’s chin. “Look, I know this whole arrangement is weird, but I just want you to get better, okay? Your parents will come to visit you later today, before dinner, but if you need anything, ring that bell on the bedside table.”

Chan frowns at the little silver bell. “What?”

“If you need something, ring the bell.” The vice principal repeats patiently. “I’ll be going now, but the help will come if you ring the bell, okay?”

Chan frowns at the vice principal. “What?”

“Get some rest, Chan.” The vice principal pats the edge of Chan’s bed and leaves the room.

Chan, in a moment of confused obedience, closes his eyes.

He imagines Woojin’s breath warm against his skin, Woojin’s voice close enough to be a low rumble that Chan _feels_ rather than hears, and Woojin’s soft lips against his own. Chan smiles, and promptly falls asleep.

 

Woojin feels his sandwich bouncing around in his jacket pocket as he walks. _Maybe I should eat it before it goes bad. I should be getting pretty hungry, but I’m not._

He doesn’t know where he’s headed, but he’s sure he’s not going home. He turned his phone off a few hours ago, tired of ignoring his parent’s incessant calls.

He can’t stop thinking about Chan. It’s not like he has much of a choice in the matter, really.

Woojin’s fingers come up to trace his lips.

_He was concussed, of course he’d do weird things like that. He won’t do that when he’s better again, just wait and see. He’s going to go right back to hating you again._

Woojin’s shoulders sag. He doesn’t feel bad because Chan hates him and he wishes that Chan didn’t, but because he’s given Chan every reason to, when Chan’s been nothing but nice to him. _I’m a terrible human being._

Woojin thinks about Jeongin, and Jeongin’s really strange mother. He feels it’s dismissive to explain away her behavior with pregnant lady hormones, but something she’d said didn’t sit well with him.

_Well, everything she’d said had been weird. She’d been really weird._

He thinks about it as he walks into the park the Weevils usually train at.

_“I was afraid that jerk would do it again.” Jeongin’s mother had said._

_Again. She’d said, ‘again’._

Woojin finds himself walking back out of the park, and circling the block until he finds a taxi.

“Where to?” The driver asks him.

Woojin gives his address.


	36. La La La La Vie En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woojin turns the knob and opens the door. In the fading light of the early evening, the room’s taken on a slightly purplish tone, but everything is as untouched and dusty as when Woojin and Chan had accidentally gone in. 
> 
> Woojin’s bat is still lying on the floor by the door, where it’s collected its own thin layer of dust. 
> 
> Woojin reaches for the lights. Only one of the four ceiling lights blinks to life, but that’s enough for him. He closes the door gently behind him and starts inspecting the things on the bedside table. 
> 
> There are picture frames of teenage girls in the crisp blue uniforms of NC Tech High School. Woojin squints at them. Three girls seem to appear in every photo, even the little polaroids stuck directly onto the bedside table. One of them is short and a little stocky, and her eyes disappear when she smiles. The other has very curly hair that blocks anyone who happens to be behind her. And the third is tall and pretty, with the kindest smile Woojin’s ever seen. Her hair is much shorter, cropped close to her chin in the photos, but there’s no mistaking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter about characters who aren’t even the stray kids WAHHAHAHAHAHA I HAD TO WRITE IT I WAS P O S S E S S E D
> 
> it's 10000000000% hetero so don't say i didn't warn you
> 
> read at your own risk
> 
> 3-year-old Woojin makes an important cameo i guess

Woojin’s expecting his father to scream and throw something at him, or maybe hit him a few times, but his father simply looks up from his newspaper when Woojin walks into the house, covered in dirt and dried mud.

His father grunts and looks back down at his newspaper.

His mother, on the other hand, stops stirring her tea and tells Woojin not to bring all the dirt from outside into their house. “Pass around the back stairs, for goodness’ sake!”

Woojin wonders if they’d behave the same way if he suddenly died.

 

Woojin stops in the hallway and glances at the door at the end of the hallway. _It’s still probably locked._

He steps into his room, takes a quick shower, and throws all his dirty clothes into a plastic bag. He peeks out his window to find a truck slowing to a stop outside the house’s perimeter wall. Woojin climbs back downstairs to find that his parents had gone out for dinner – without him, of course.

“They said they’ll be back by midnight.” The head of housekeeping says, looking at the plastic bag in Woojin’s hands. “What’s that?”

“My clothes. They need washing.” Woojin says, and a maid quickly takes the bag from him.

“Do you need anything else?” The head of housekeeping asks. “Have you eaten?”

_No,_ Woojin thinks, and his stomach grumbles as if on cue. But he’s got other things to think about. “Actually, I think I’ve locked myself out of my room. Could I borrow the keys?”

The head of housekeeping sighs and reaches into his back pocket for a ring of old keys. “I’ll open it for you.”

“No, it’s fine, I can do it myself. I’ve troubled you enough for today, I think.” Woojin says, casting an apologetic look at the household staff scrubbing Woojin’s trail of dirt off the floor around him.

“Sir, the new delivery of flowers is here.” One of the younger security personnel says, stepping carefully around Woojin’s dirt and the people scrubbing them. “They apologized for being late, said their son had been rushed to the hospital.”

“That’s no excuse. Surely they have other employees.” The head of housekeeping rolls his eyes. Then he gives Woojin a suspicious look, but hands the ring of keys over. “I’ll come up to get them in a moment.”

“Okay, thank you.” Woojin bows gracefully and races up the stairs.

He flips through the ring of keys labeled with dymo tape. _Master 1, Master 2, Nursery 1 –_ that’s Woojin’s bedroom – _Guest 1, Guest 2, Nursery 2._

Woojin tries the last three keys on the door at the end of the hallway. _Guest 1_ doesn’t fit into the space, while _Guest 2_ does, but it doesn’t turn.

_Nursery 2_ fits into the locks easily, and turns with a soft click.

Woojin turns the knob and opens the door. In the fading light of the early evening, the room’s taken on a slightly purplish tone, but everything is as untouched and dusty as when Woojin and Chan had accidentally gone in.

Woojin’s bat is still lying on the floor by the door, where it’s collected its own thin layer of dust.

Woojin reaches for the lights. Only one of the four ceiling lights blinks to life, but that’s enough for him. He closes the door gently behind him and starts inspecting the things on the bedside table.

There are picture frames of teenage girls in the crisp blue uniforms of NC Tech High School. Woojin squints at them. Three girls seem to appear in every photo, even the little polaroids stuck directly onto the bedside table. One of them is short and a little stocky, and her eyes disappear when she smiles. The other has very curly hair that blocks anyone who happens to be behind her. And the third is tall and pretty, with the kindest smile Woojin’s ever seen. Her hair is much shorter, cropped close to her chin in the photos, but there’s no mistaking it. It’s Jeongin’s mother.

Woojin turns to the bookshelf, ignoring the corny teen novels, until he finds a stack of diaries. _It’d be invading her privacy to go through those. Definitely._

_But I have to_ know _._

Woojin hears footsteps coming up the stairs, so he just grabs an armful of the diaries and his bat and runs out of the room, locking the door behind him.

 

Woojin blinks innocently when he opens the door to his room and finds the head of housekeeping there. “Oh?”

“The keys, please.”

“Right, sorry.” Woojin hands him the ring of keys. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The head of housekeeping says curtly, before turning to his left and saying, “There’s no need to put any flowers there, that part of the house isn’t used.”

Woojin closes the door gently and locks it. Just for good measure.

He pulls the stack of diaries out from under his bed and looks them over. They all have cute little heart-shaped locks made out of some flimsy metal.

_Sorry, Jeongin’s mom,_ Woojin thinks as he snaps one of the locks open with his bare hands.

 

_THIS DIARY BELONGS TO ROSE KIM!!!_

_STAY OUT!!!_

_PERSONAL!!!_

_ESPECIALLY YOU, UGLY BROTHER!!!_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today I played with my friends and we had a lot of fun. We also had pizza and spaghetti, and it was yummy even if it spilled on my dress. That’s ok. I have a lot of other dresses, and it wasn’t my favorite one anyway._

Woojin flips through the pages of what looks like a eight- or nine-year-old girl’s diary. There’s not much in it but accounts of all the ridiculously mundane things little girls did in the late 90’s. Woojin finds a few photos of Jeongin’s mom – _Rose_ , apparently – in pigtails, posing with a few other small girls.

He shuts the diary and picks up another. He whispers a small apology as he snaps the lock open.

_Rose’s Diary #11_

Woojin looks at the neat, even handwriting of the first entry, which goes:

_Dear Diary,_

_My boyfriend is a pain in the ass. My dad is a pain in the ass. My grades are a pain in the ass. I want to die._

_Sincerely,_

_Rose Kim_

Woojin figures that she must be a high school student, if not a high school senior, and reads on.

 

_Dear Diary,_

_That bastard (formerly known as my boyfriend) broke up with me through a text (see attached) but I don’t really care. I’m also failing math, and Dad took my phone away._

That _I care about._

_Sincerely,_

_Rose Kim_

At the bottom of the page is a small photo of a text message on a very old flip-phone.

_From: ~* <3 My boyfriend <3*~ _

_Hello Rose. We’re over._

Woojin grimaces. _Poor Jeongin’s mom._ He hopes that Jeongin’s mom had kicked this guy in the nuts or something. Unless it was Jeongin’s dad. _But that doesn’t make any sense._

Woojin flips through the rest of her short, exhausted entries. He finds out that she’d played for the Tigers’ girls baseball team, and it seemed to be the only thing she enjoyed doing. She hated school. She mentions her mother a few times, because her mother’s always whining about her haircut, but she seems closer to her father, who never misses any of her games. There’s this other guy she keeps complaining about, who seems to crop up in every other entry. It doesn’t seem to be her boyfriend, because she refers to him as “That bastard”. This other guy, she keeps calling him “Papa’s lapdog”, though she never explains why. Woojin figures he must be her brother or something.

Then in one entry she slips up and calls him by his name: _Papa’s lapdog really has nothing better to do than suck up to Papa all the time_. _I wish he’d just disappear forever. I think world would be a better place without Yang Jaehyun._

_Yang Jaehyun? As in Yang Jeongin's dad?_ Woojin forgets how hungry he is and keeps reading.

 

_Fifteen years ago_

Rose nods, pretending to listen to her father.

“Jaehyun’s received an offer to play for S------- University.” He carries on, smiling like he’d birthed Jaehyun himself. Rose snorts into her soup at the idea.

“Rose, please.” Her mother snaps at her. “ _Refinement_.”

“Yes, mother, sorry.” Rose grins to herself as she sips her soup politely.

“That’s wonderful for Jaehyun,” Rose’s mother says. “His mother must be so proud.”

“Oh, she is, I spoke to her over the phone this morning. I’m proud of him, too. I remember when I first saw him, I knew he was special,” Rose’s father says. “Reminded me a lot of myself.”

Rose had mouthed the words along with him. She’s tired of hearing this over and over again, but once her father starts, there’s no stopping him.

“I didn’t start out rich, you know, Rose,” Her father starts, and Rose could honestly finish the rest of the story for him, but she just smiles and nods kindly. “It was just me and my mom after my dad walked out on us, a lot like Jaehyun. I had to work three jobs just to finish high school.”

Rose smiles. “Oh, but Jaehyun’s _only_ working _two_.”

“But training’s a lot tougher these days, Rose, you know that. It takes up more time.” Her father says, eager to nudge his lapdog back up on his pedestal. “Anyway, it was a miracle that Coach Lee had found me, and I’m forever grateful to him for getting me on his team.”

“God rest his soul.” Rose’s mother interjects.

“God rest his soul.” Rose’s father echoes. “It’s hard work that made me successful, Rose, and a lot of help. I wanted to be that help for other kids who were like me, that’s why I gave Jaehyun his scholarship.”

_And you’ve never let me hear the end of it._ Rose just nods and sips her soup.

“How are your grades?” Her mother asks.

Rose nearly drops her spoon. “Okay.”

“Not high?” Her mother presses on.

“They’re not low.” Rose says. “Not _very_ low.”

Her mother purses her lips. “I know you’re not a senior yet, but you need to start thinking about college, Rose. You can’t get into college without good grades.”

“I can get in with baseball.” Rose says, adding sarcastically, “ _Like Jaehyun_.”

Her father dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Jaehyun has very high grades. The university officials were impressed.”

Her mother looks at her pointedly. “See?”

Rose clenches her teeth and puts her spoon down. “I think I’m done eating. Please excuse me.” She pushes her chair back and tosses her napkin onto the table.

Her parents both frown at her.

“Where are you going, Rose?”

“To _study_.” She says sharply, before leaving the dining room. “ _Like Jaehyun._ ”

 

“Hey Rose.”

She turns to her friend, who’s jogging around the school’s oval next to her. “Yeah?”

“Yang Jaehyun’s single, right?”

Rose pushes her friend so hard that she tumbles off the track and into the grass in the center. Their coach blows her whistle at the two of them. “Kim! Hwang! One extra lap!”

Rose glares at her friend and starts sprinting ahead. She’s much taller than the other girls in the team, so it doesn’t take her long to put the entire team between her and her friend.

“Rose!” Her friend huffs, catching up after a few laps. Actually, she’s probably an entire lap behind Rose, but it doesn’t matter.

“What?” Rose huffs irritably, regretting sprinting like an idiot.

“Sorry!”

“It’s ok.”

“I just- ugh- thought you’d know,” Her friend says between gasps of air. “’Cause he’s your dad’s scholar and stuff.”

Rose rolls her eyes and starts sprinting again.

 

“Hey. Yang Jaehyun.” Rose crosses her arms.

The crowd of seniors parts to let her through, and she ignores the gross elevator looks the senior boys are giving her and her running shorts.

“Hi Rose. What’s up?” Jaehyun lifts his eyebrows, looking Rose right in the eyes. She’d rather he stared at her legs or something.

Rose looks around at the other boys, but they’re not clearing out. _Idiots._ She looks back at Jaehyun with a scowl.

“Hey, guys could we have some space?” Jaehyun says, gently brushing his friends away.

“At least do it in one of the stalls.” One of Jaehyun’s friends laughs, earning a pretty solid punch from Jaehyun.

“And clean up after yourselves!” One of his other friends shouts before getting pushed out by the other laughing boys.

Jaehyun turns back to Rose, running one hand through his hair in embarrassment. “Sorry about them.”

“Serves me right for going into your locker room.” Rose says, turning her nose up at the _stench_. _Why don’t girls’ locker rooms ever end up this_ foul _?_

“So what’s up?” Jaehyun asks, looking genuinely interested. Rose isn’t an idiot. She knows it’s a front. Her dad pays for his tuition. Makes sense for him to act all nice and chummy with Rose.

“Min-ah wants to know if you’re single.” Rose says.

“Uh.” Jaehyun looks uncomfortable, and Rose relishes in it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you mean, you _guess_. Either you’re single or you’re not,” Rose rolls her eyes. “I thought you were smart.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Okay, fine, I _am_. Why does she want to know anyway?”

“Honestly, did you hit your head or something?” Rose makes a face. “She thinks you’re cute. You should ask her out.”

“ _I_ should?” Jaehyun looks amused. _What an asshole._

“Yeah. Hwang Min-ah’s the best girl you’ll ever get, don’t waste your chance.”

“You sure are selling her pretty hard.” Jaehyun laughs again.

Rose wants to throttle him. “Look, forget it. Min-ah deserves better. Forget I said anything.”

She turns to leave, but Jaehyun calls out, “Hey, Rose?”

“ _What_?” Rose crosses her arms as she turns around.

“Your shorts.” Jaehyun points down, but his eyes are still trained on hers.

Rose looks down and finds that her shorts had rolled up into her underwear and half her ass is hanging out. _AND NOBODY FUCKING SAID ANYTHING?_

Rose fixes her shorts in a hurry and runs out of the locker room.

“Bye!” Jaehyun calls after her. _Like hell I’m going to answer him. Perv._

Rose hates having dinner with Jaehyun and his mom – not that she has anything against the lady, she works really hard and Rose respects her, it’s her _son_ she can’t stand. But her dad insists on it once a month.

If normal dinners at her house are painful, dinners with the Yangs are _excruciating._ It’s like ping-pong, but instead of a ball, the adults just bounce around all of Jaehyun’s achievements in Rose’s face.

“He got a 99 in Math.” Jaehyun’s mom says proudly.

“ _Mama_ ,” Jaehyun says, blushing down at his soup. “Please.”

“What happened to the 1%?” Rose’s father asks.

“I don’t know, sir.” Jaehyun shrugs.

“Your math teacher probably ate it.” Rose’s father laughs.

Rose rolls her eyes. _It’s not Teacher Hwang’s fault she’s a little on the curvy side_. She looks to her left to find Jaehyun laughing along to her father’s joke, like the asshole he is. _They’re really the same person._

_One of them is more than enough._

“You should help Rose with math.” Rose’s mother says.

Rose shoots her mother a hard look. “Mo _ther_.”

“What?” Rose’s mother looks shocked. “He got a 99. What did you get, Rose?”

Rose grinds one bite of broccoli to a pulp between her teeth before answering, “76.”

The table is silent for a moment.

“That’s passing, though.” Jaehyun says. “Right?”

Rose glowers at him.

“Maybe, but we’re not aiming for _just_ passing.” Rose’s mother says. “She has to get really good grades if she wants to go to a good university.”

“I know you’re really busy, but if you could help Rose with math,” Rose’s father says. “We could pay you for tutoring.”

“You could quit your other job.” Rose’s mother adds.

Jaehyun looks at his mom then, eyes wide. “I, uh, I don’t think…”

_Of course he’ll take it. He’ll do almost anything for money,_ Rose thinks, chopping her broccoli to pieces on her plate. _He’s just pretending to be modest. Fake._

Rose realizes that Jaehyun’s looking at her, so she scowls at him.

“It’s really kind of you to offer that,” Jaehyun says. “But I think maybe Rose would prefer someone with actual tutoring experience.”

“No, I don’t think our daughter would be comfortable with a stranger,” Rose’s mother pats Rose on the hand. “Wouldn’t you, Rose?”

“I don’t need tutoring.” Rose grumbles.

“Rose, speak properly, don’t mumble your words. What did you say?”

“I said,” Rose raises her voice. “I don’t need tutoring! Not from Jaehyun, or anyone! I’d like to be excused now!”

She pushes her chair back and leaves the dining room without waiting for her parents to respond. _I’m going to get real skinny if they keep this up._

“I’m sorry.” Is the first thing that Jaehyun says when he steps into the library in Rose’s house the next afternoon.

“Don’t bother pretending.” Rose says, pushing her chair back and putting her feet up on the mahogany table. “How much is my dad paying you?”

Jaehyun flushes bright red. “I- I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about-”

“Whatever.” Rose crosses her arms.

Jaehyun sits gingerly in the chair next to her. “Um, do you have any homework in math today?”

“Yeah, loads.” Rose just stares at him.

He stares back. “Do you have it with you?”

“I left it at school.”

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, looking sternly at Rose’s feet. “Could you ask one of your friends to text it to you-”

“It’s in the book.” Rose taps her feet on the table. “I left the book at school.”

“So…” Jaehyun’s struggling to keep a friendly smile on his face. “What do you plan to do?”

“Not my math homework.” Rose grins at him. “I think I’ll ask the cook to make me a snack. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” Rose pushes her chair back and leaves the room, feeling deep sense of satisfaction at Jaehyun’s frustrated expression.

 

Rose presses her ear to the door. It’s the third week running of Jaehyun trying and failing to tutor her in math, and if there’s anything about him that she admires, it’s that he hasn’t hit her or quit yet.

“…Mr. Kim, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help her.”

Rose smirks to herself. Success is sweet.

“Rose can be stubborn, but she’s not bad.” Rose hears her father say. “Keep trying. I’ll double your pay.”

Rose groans internally. There’s no way he would say no to that.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, I can’t accept anything if I’m not getting anything done. And she’s making it impossible-”

The door swings open, and Rose finds herself face-to-face with Jaehyun. Well, almost. Rose is just a little bit taller than him.

“Rose.” Jaehyun says, frozen in surpise. “How long have you been there?”

“I heard everything.” Rose replies calmly.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say anyth-”

“Whatever.” Rose turns on her heel and starts for the stairs.

“Rose, wait! I’m sorry!” Jaehyun calls after her.

“Rose Kim!” Her father shouts. “GET BACK HERE!”

Rose has no other choice but to turn on her heels again and walk back to the library in shame. “What do you want, Father?”

“Apologize to Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “N- No, she doesn’t need to-”

“Apologize to him.” Her father insists.

Rose draws herself up to full height and, taking deep breaths because it’s really taxing on her pride, says, “I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun looks pained. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Now you go in there and you will cooperate or I will pull you out of the baseball team.” Rose’s father says.

Rose gapes at him. “But _Father_ -”

“You think I won’t do it?” Her father’s jaw is jutting out like it does when he’s arguing with a business partner. “Are you going to cooperate or not?”

Rose’s lower lip trembles she she lowers her head and says, “I’ll do it.”

She walks into the library, slamming the door behind her. She fishes for her math book in her backpack and slams it onto the table. She pulls her chair back, dragging it on the wooden floor. She flips the book open to the bookmarked page and stares at it, but she can’t read it.

One tear drops onto the paper, followed by another.

Rose puts her feet up on the chair, tucking her face into her knees.

“Rose?” Jaehyun asks gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Go away.”

The hand comes off her shoulder, and Rose hears the door to the library open and close.

She lets herself cry for real, but the door opens again. She stiffens up, afraid Jaehyun had gone to get her father.

She hears a strange noise and looks up to find a glass of water on the table next to her book.

“I’ll just be here, but I won’t bother you, okay?” Jaehyun says.

Rose stares at him through puffy eyes.

“Drink the water, it’ll help.”

Rose stares at the glass.

Jaehyun sits across the table and opens his own textbook quietly, mouthing the words as he reads.

Rose reaches for the glass of water and takes a little sip, then a big gulp, and she looks up again to find Jaehyun smiling at her.

Rose puts the glass down. “Hey, Jaehyun?”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

Rose leans her forehead against the window of the bus, listening to the music from her iPod.

“You’re going to get pimples if you do that.” Min-ah says from beside her.

“I don’t get pimples.” Rose mutters, leaning her entire face on the glass.

“You suck.” Min-ah slaps Rose on the arm. Then she snuggles up to Rose, resting her head on Rose’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m going to break up with my boyfriend.”

“What! But you just got him! And you two are so cute together!” Min-ah slaps her again. “ _Why_?”

“I think I like someone else.”

“Wow, I wish I had that problem.” Min-ah says sarcastically. “Let me guess, you met some _prince_ -”

“Get out of here, Min-ah,” Rose laughs, pushing her friend.

Min-ah tumbles into the aisle of the bus. Their coach blows her whistle. “Stay in your seats, girls! We’re _trying_ to get to the match in one piece!”

Rose helps Min-ah up again. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Min-ah says. “But save your strength for the game.”

Rose grimaces. Her stomach’s been twisting all morning, because today is the finals of the National Baseball Championship (For Girls) and she’s never been more nervous about anything in her life. Everyone’s been telling her that she has her dad’s genes and she’ll be fine, but she can’t help but think, _What if I’m not as good as Father?_

“What did I tell you?”

“That I was worried over nothing.” Rose groans above the music blaring from a nearby speaker. They’re in the boys’ vice captain’s house, celebrating the back-to-back national titles of the girls and boys baseball teams of NC Tech.

Jaehyun, still wearing his uniform like an absolute dork, hands Rose a cup.

She frowns at it.

“It’s Coke,” Jaehyun laughs. “Your dad would skin me if I gave you anything stronger.”

“ _I_ would skin you if you did that.” Rose grumbles, taking a sip. She hates the taste of alcohol, and doesn’t know why anyone would put it in their mouth _on purpose_.

“Jaehyun! YANG JAEHYUN! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!” One of the boys, clearly having put too much alcohol in his mouth and down his throat, shouts from the other side of the room.

Jaehyun sighs. “I’m gonna go stop him from breaking things. Let me know when you wanna go home.”

“What are you, my dad?”

“No, but he’s the guy who’s gonna kill me if you don’t get home all right.” Jaehyun winks at her before wading through the crowd in the room to save his friend.

Rose presses her cup to her cheeks, which are a little warm. _You’re not even drinking, loser._

Someone pulls Rose aside. “Hey Rose, is your boyfriend here?”

Rose frowns at the junior, who’s clearly drunk. “No, he doesn’t like parties.”

“He’s such a prude.” The junior groans, looking up at the ceiling. “Why are you here, then?”

“Because we won the finals, duh.” Rose shakes his hand off her arm.

“What? The girls won, too?”

“Yeah.” Rose turns to go back into the room with everyone else. “Asshole.”

Rose manages to push through the other people without having to talk to anyone, and with only four people “accidentally” touching her ass. _A new record for the boys baseball team. Congratulations to them._

_Maybe I hate parties too,_ Rose thinks as she steps out into the backyard for fresh air. The pool is glowing a weird aqua, like it’s a kiddie pool and it’s more pee than water.

Rose makes a face.

“It’s the lights.” Someone says from next to her.

She turns and finds the vice captain of the boys’ baseball team sighing into a cup of something that isn’t Coke. “What?”

“When we had new lights installed, they put yellow ones.” The vice captain says. “So it looks like it’s full of piss.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

He nudges her with his elbow. “Is your boyfriend not coming?”

“No.” Rose says, probably for the twentieth time that night. “He hates parties.”

“Me too.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Then why did you throw one in your own house?”

“Because I’m the vice captain. I had to.” The vice captain says. “It’s not like our _actual_ captain has a house to throw parties in.”

Rose crumples her empty cup defensively. “Jaehyun doesn’t really have a choice.”

“Neither do I. Did I _ask_ to have this house?” The vice captain groans, flopping dramatically into a lawn chair.

_Oh god, do I sound like that?_ Rose crushes the cup in her hand. _I don’t blame Jaehyun for hating me._

“Besides, we all know he’s just captain because your dad asked Coach to make him captain.”

Rose looks down at the vice captain in his chair. “Excuse me?”

“Anything to make Jaehyun’s college application look better, right?” The vice captain laughs. “Come on, you know that of all people.”

Rose clenches her teeth. “I thought you guys voted for the captain.”

“Sure, but Coach told us to pick Jaehyun before we even started voting.” The vice captain takes a sip of his drink. “Your dad really never lets an investment go sour, does he? No wonder you guys are so rich.”

“Yeah, my father’s like that.”

“But he doesn’t do that for _you_ , does he?”

Rose balls the cup up in her fist.

“Seems like he wishes Jaehyun were his kid instead.”

Rose bends over and tips the vice captain’s drink down his shirt.

“Hey!” He gets up, knocking the lawn chair aside. “What gives!”

“It was an accident.” Rose says, turning to go back into the house.

“Oh hell no. You think I’ll just let that slide?” The vice captain reaches out to grab Rose by the arm, but he misses and grabs the back of her shirt instead.

“Come on, you won’t hit a girl.” Rose tries to pry her shirt free.

“You’re _hardly_ a girl, Rose,” The vice captain chuckles. “You’re taller than me and flat as a board.”

Rose turns around, never mind that her shirt is stretched nearly transparent, and lands a solid punch on the vice captain’s nose.

“What the _hell_?” He reaches for her again, and Rose dodges out of the way, but she loses her footing.

She’s surrounded by a gross greenish light as she falls into the pool.

When she scrambles to the edge of the pool and pulls herself up, half the party is standing on the grass, utterly confused. The vice captain is kneeling by the overturned chair, holding his bloody nose and shouting curses at Rose.

“Jesus Christ, Rose,” Min-ah says, pushing past the others to help Rose out of the pool. Jaehyun runs out of the door and helps pull Rose onto the grass.

“What happened?” Jaehyun asks, shaking his jersey off – he has a shirt under, of course – and draping it over Rose’s shoulders.

Rose looks at the vice captain. He looks back at her pleadingly, as if he’s saying, _Please don’t tell them. Please._

 “I slipped and fell into the pool.”

“What the hell were you _doing_?” Min-ah asks, helping Rose to her feet. “Are you drunk?”

“I slipped.” Rose insists. “And fell into the pool.”

“We need to get your dried before you go home,” Jaehyun says. He turns to the vice captain. “Could we borrow the bathroom?”

“Take my room, I don’t care.” The vice captain says.

“Do you have a hair dryer?” Min-ah shouts as they help Rose into the house.

“What the fuck? _No_!”

 

“No, I don’t wanna use any of _his_ towels.” Rose scowls when Min-ah hands her a towel.

“I stole these from his parents’ room.” Min-ah says, putting the towel and a hair dryer on the bathroom counter. “They’re marginally more hygienic.”

Rose smiles at her friend and grabs the towel. She steps into the shower and peels her wet clothes off, balling them into a pile as she wraps herself in the towel.

She and Min-ah dump the clothes in the bathroom sink and turn on the dryer.

They’ve try drying it for a good twenty minutes, but Rose’s pile of clothes stay soaking wet, except for a slightly warm layer on top.

“Shit.” Rose says, checking her watch.

Someone knocks on the door. “You guys okay in there?”

Min-ah stares at Rose, her eyes wide as she mouths, ‘It’s Jaehyun!’

‘I _know_!’ Rose mouths back.

‘Should I let him in?’

Rose gestures at the towel currently keeping her privates just that. ‘NO!’

Min-ah turns back to the door. “Uh, no thanks! We can dry the clothes on our own!”

“What?” Jaehyun calls back.

“Sorry! Rose is naked!”

Rose slaps her friend on the arm. “ _Min-ah_!”

“You can just hand me the clothes, I can dry them for you.” Jaehyun offers.

Min-ah looks back at Rose. ‘What do I do?’

Rose stares at the door. Not to be judgmental, but Jaehyun’s mom washes clothes for a living. He probably knows a magic trick or two to get clothes to dry quickly.

Rose puts her hand on the doorknob.

“Rose!” Min-ah hisses. “What are you-”

Rose opens the door. “Can you help us?”

Jaehyun’s eyes are fixed on Rose’s face, as always. “Sure, what do you need?”

“The clothes won’t dry. And I have to go home soon.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was starting to panic-” Jaehyun looks at the pile of clothes in the sink. “Oh come on, you didn’t even stretch them out?”

“I don’t know, okay,” Rose whines. “I’ve never done the laundry at home.”

“Me neither.” Min-ah says, putting her hands up in surrender. “Please save us.”

Jaehyun nudges the bathroom door shut behind him and picks up Rose’s clothes, wringing them out one by one. Rose snatches her underwear before he has to pick them up.

“I’ll do that.” Rose says quickly.

“Yeah, you probably should.” Jaehyun says, turning to face the wall.

Min-ah shoots an anxious look at Rose. ‘You’re _naked_.’ She mouths.

‘I’m wearing a towel,’ Rose mouths back, trying to squeeze the water out of her underwear, but for some reason, she just can’t do it like Jaehyun did. “Jaehyuuuun.” She whines.

Jaehyun takes her underwear from her and wrings them out.

Min-ah, no longer able to stand this, says, “Okay, that’s it, I’m out.”

“Min-ah, wait-”

Min-ah slips out of the bathroom and slams the door.

Rose looks back at Jaehyun, who’s trying to figure the hair dryer out. _Of course, he’s never used one of those._

She takes it from him and turns it on the highest setting. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Jaehyun stretches Rose’s clothes out over another towel and starts drying them with the hair dryer. He never once looks at Rose, and keeps staring down at the clothes like they’re the only things in the entire world.

Rose wishes he would look at her. Even just for a moment. “Jaehyun.”

“Yes?” Jaehyun’s making some headway with Rose’s shirt. Sweat’s starting to collect on his forehead, even though the bathroom is a little chilly.

“Awhile ago, the vice captain said…” Rose stops herself midway. _He’s already helping you, don’t stir trouble just to get him to look at you. How attention-seeking can you be? Uh,_ very _attention-seeking._ “Do you think I look like a guy?”

“What?” Jaehyun stops smoothing out Rose’s shorts. “He asked _you_ if _you_ think _he_ looks like a guy?”

“No, no,” Rose laughs. “He said that _I_ look like a guy. Not like a girl.”

Jaehyun scoffs. “That’s dumb.”

“Do you think I look like a girl?”

Jaehyun turns the hair dryer off and looks at Rose, right in the eyes as usual. “I don’t think it matters.”

“ _What_?”

“It doesn’t really matter if you look like what people think girls should look like,” Jaehyun turns the hair dryer on again. “You’re still beautiful either way.”

Rose reaches over and turns the hair dryer off.

Jaehyun frowns. “Come on, Rose, we have to get these dry before-”

Rose perches onto the bathroom counter and kisses Jaehyun.

Jaehyun drops the hair dryer, but its cord catches it before it hits the tiled floor. He puts his hands around Rose’s back, pulling her closer. “You didn’t drink, did you?”

“You can check.” Rose says, opening her mouth for another kiss.

Jaehyun groans lightly when their mouths connect. Then he pulls away, or at least as much as he can with Rose holding onto his shoulders. “Rose.”

“Yes?”

“You have a boyfriend.”

Rose sighs, using all the power she has not to roll her eyes when she thinks about him. “Can’t you do _anything_ wrong?”

Jaehyun chews on his lip. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and your boyfriend, but-”

Rose drops the towel innocently to the floor. “He’s never touched me. Once. He doesn’t kiss me, and he wants me to grow my hair out because he doesn’t want people to see us together and think he’s gay.”

“Well that’s bullshit.” Jaehyun says, struggling to keep his eyes on Rose’s.

“That’s what I told him.” Rose says, pulling Jaehyun towards her again.

This time Jaehyun doesn’t pull away.

 

Rose can’t look up from her plate knowing that Jaehyun’s sitting diagonally from her, and she’s sitting between their mothers. _Why did we have to have this dinner today of all days?_ It’s been less than a day since she and Jaehyun…

Rose sputters on some water, coughing.

“Rose.” Her mother says sternly, bringing Rose’s table napkin to her mouth. “ _Refinement_.”

_Oh, mother, if you only knew…_

“Sorry, Mother.”

Jaehyun’s mother looks at the empty seats at the table, then turns to Rose’s father. “Are we waiting for someone else?”

“Oh, yes,” Rose’s father says. “My son and his family just returned from a vacation. We invited them for dinner.”

Jaehyun’s mother seems to relax only a little bit. Rose feels bad for her. She must get stressed out of her mind with all these dinners and the too many forks and spoons.

The door to the dining room opens. In comes Rose’s older brother, looking stern and ready to shout at someone even if he’s just gotten back from a fucking vacation, and his wife, with her nose turned up like she’s smelling something seriously foul.

Rose ignores them both and runs straight for the small boy trailing behind them. “Woojinnie! Do you remember me? It’s your Auntie Rose,”

Woojin purses his lips. “Hello, Auntie Rose.”

Rose opens her arms to hug him, and frowns when he doesn’t budge. “Woojinnie, hug Auntie Rose.”

Woojin’s feet seem rooted to the ground as he frowns at Rose like she’s a math problem.

_Does he not know what hugs are?_ Rose is ready to beat the _crap_ out of her brother and sister-in-law for not hugging their goddamn child.

“Hi there,”

Rose turns to her left to find Jaehyun squatting next to her, smiling at Woojin. She points at him. “This is your… uh… Uncle Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun laughs. “I guess that’s okay.”

“Hello, Uncle Jaehyun.” Woojin says politely.

Jaehyun ruffles Woojin’s hair. Woojin looks affronted as he combs his hair down aggressively. “Don’t touch my hair.”

“Wooh, okay, sorry.” Jaehyun laughs.

“Jaehyun! Rose!” Rose’s father calls. “Come and have dinner first.”

“Yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Yes, Father.” Rose gives one of Woojin’s chubby little arms a little squeeze. “I- _We_ ’ll play with you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

“High-five!” Jaehyun says, extending a hand to the toddler.

Woojin stares at it for a moment, and Rose watches in mild horror, then Woojin slaps Jaehyun’s hand gently. “High-five.”

Rose heaves a sigh of relief. _At least he knows_ that _much._

 

“I feel like,” Jaehyun says, talking to Rose above Woojin’s head. Woojin's sitting in his lap, deciding between three crayons. “I only come to your house to see Woojin these days.”

“Ouch.” Rose laughs, watching Woojin scrawl on her math homework in red, blue, and green crayons. She kicks Jaehyun’s leg under the table. “You’re being paid to see _me_ , not the baby.”

“You make me sound like a call boy,” Jaehyun laughs.

Woojin looks up at him. “Uncle Jaehyun, what’s a _call boy_?”

“Um…” Jaehyun’s face blanches and Rose laughs so hard she has to sit on the floor.

The door to the library opens. “Woojin! What are you doing here?”

Rose and Jaehyun jump in surprise, but Woojin carries on drawing a house on Rose’s homework.

Woojin’s nanny storms into the library, apologizing profusely. She plucks the child off Jaehyun’s lap and gives him a rough pat on the leg. “You’re not supposed to bother the grownups while they’re working.”

“’M sorry.”

“Say sorry to your aunt and her friend.” The nanny orders him.

“No, it’s okay, we don’t mind.” Jaehyun says quickly.

“We let him in here,” Rose adds.

The nanny huffs and lowers Woojin to the floor. “Don’t worry, he’s starting school next week, he won’t bother you any more.”

Rose frowns.

 

“He’s _three_ years old, he doesn’t need to go to school yet,” Rose insists, trailing her older brother as he walks down the stairs. “He’s just going to get stressed! I started school when I was six-”

“And you think I want Woojin to end up like you?”

Rose stops in midstep, glaring at her brother. “What do you mean by that.”

“Nothing, Rose, don’t be so sensitive.” Her brother says. “We just want Woojin to have an edge over other kids.”

“He already knows how to read. He’s a really smart kid.”

“That’s why we have to send him to school.” Her brother says. “Left without proper instruction, he won’t be so _smart_ anymore.”

Rose frowns at him. “You’re being too hard on him.”

“Dad’s always been too easy on you.” Her brother looks her over. “And look where that got you.”

Rose grips the handrail tightly. She’s trying to form words, to say something back to him, but the tears are welling up in her eyes again.

“Oh, don’t _cry_ , Rose. It’s not something worth crying over. Save your tears.” Her brother scoffs. He reaches the bottom of the stairs, where Jaehyun’s been standing with a strange look on his face.

“Screw you.”

“Watch your language, Rose. It makes you sound less intelligent.”

Rose stands at the foot of the stairs, gripping the handrail and blinking at the marble floors while her brother’s footsteps echo off down the hallway.

“Rose.” Jaehyun says gently. “I’ll just wait for you in the library?”

“No.” Rose dries her eyes off on her sleeve. She takes Jaehyun by the arm. “Come with me.”

 

Rose wakes up to someone knocking on her door. She blinks in the dying light through her curtains, then her eyes widen.

Jaehyun’s next to her, sleeping in the crook of her numb arm. It’s cute, of course, but she can feel his body warm against hers, and her heart starts racing.

Someone knocks on the door again. “Miss Rose, dinner’s ready.”

Rose looks anxiously at Jaehyun. He should’ve been gone hours ago. The security people have probably noticed, and the staff, that Jaehyun hasn’t left the house yet. And they know he’s not downstairs in the library.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” Rose shouts. “Tell everyone to start eating without me!”

Jaehyun stirs, frowning as he sits up in Rose’s bed. The he brushes his hair out of his face. “Oh _shit_.”

“You have to get out of here.” Rose says, climbing out of bed to fish for Jaehyun’s clothes. She hands them over to him, underwear first.

Jaehyun sits there without taking his underwear from her. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“Jaehyun. You have to get out of here. Now.” Rose shakes his clothes at him. “Get dressed.”

“You don’t… feel _bad_ about what we-”

“We can feel bad later,” Rose grabs his hands and makes him take his clothes from her. “You have to _leave_. If my dad finds you-”

“I’m dead.” Jaehyun finishes her sentence as he hops into his jeans.

“You can go out the back way,” Rose says, reaching into her closet for fresh clothes. “You’ll have to pass through the tearoom to the kitchen, but I don’t think the staff will mind you.”

Jaehyun pulls his shirt back over his head and slips into his varsity jacket. “Okay.”

Rose zips up the back of her new dress with one hand and twists the doorknob with the other. She peeks out into the hallway. “Coast is clear. Go, _go_.”

“Rose,” Jaehyun says, stopping to touch her on the arm. “One more thing.”

“What are you waiting for? Hurry before someone-”

“When I said that I loved you awhile ago,” Jaehyun says. “I meant it, okay?”

Rose grips the doorknob. “I love you too.”

“I love you,” Jaehyun says again, pecking her on the cheek before darting noiselessly down the hallway.

Rose’s free hand moves up to touch the spot he’d kissed. She smiles.

 

It’s the day of Jaehyun’s graduation, but Rose finds that she can’t drag herself out of bed. Everything feels awful, and the minute she forces herself up, she has to run to the bathroom and throw up.

She’d had an inkling, of course. She’s eats healthy and exercises regularly, but her period’s late.

Rose drags herself to her feet. _No. There’s no way._

She leans over the toilet and throws up again.

 

Jaehyun frowns when he sees Rose’s parents seated with the rest of the guests, but Rose isn’t with them.

“I’m sure they’re very proud of you,” His mother says, patting him on the arm.

“Rose isn’t here.”

“Oh, you know her, son,” Jaehyun’s mother laughs. “She probably didn’t wake up.”

 

Rose calls the head of housekeeping over through the intercom.

He brings her some medicine and water and tea, but she turns it all away.

“I want to go to the hospital.” She tells him.

“But, Miss Rose, we don’t even-”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The head of housekeeping drops the tray to the carpet. “Shit.”

 

Rose’s father has tears in his eyes when he holds open the front door and orders her to leave.

“I’m your _daughter_!” Rose stops before the door, and turns back to find her brother sitting on a lounge chair. “Oppa, please, I’m your sister, you can’t let them do this to me! I don’t have anywhere to go!”

Her brother looks up from his PDA. “You should’ve thought about that before you did anything.”

“Father, I have nowhere else to go.” Rose has to lean against a wall, because she can’t stand. “Please don’t make me leave.”

“You didn’t give us a choice, Rose. We can’t have you in the house, or have you seen in _public_ with us,” Her father blinks, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Not like this.”

“But it doesn’t even _show_ -”

“Not yet, but it will.”

 

_Present_

Woojin stares at the last, unfinished entry of Rose’s 11th diary:

_I’m going to have a baby, and I don’t know what’s going to happen to it._

_I’m scared._

Woojin closes the diary and sits back in his chair. The head of housekeeping’s knocked on his door thrice to call him down to breakfast.

“Give me a minute! Tell them to start eating without me!”

Woojin tucks all the diaries into a drawer on his desk and locks it. Then he checks to see if his shirt’s buttoned on straight, and heads down to the dining room.

His mother and father are reading on their phones, scrolling aimlessly while they sip their coffee. Neither greets nor minds Woojin when he sits at his place on the table, if they notice him at all.

“Father.” Woojin says as he helps himself to some toast and butter.

His father lifts his eyebrows as he sips his coffee, but says nothing.

“Father.” Woojin says, more forcefully this time.

“What is it?”

“What happened to my aunt?” Woojin asks.

“She runs the stadium in-”

“Not your cousin, Father.” Woojin says. “Your _sister._ Rose.”

“She ran away from home some years ago.” His father says blankly. “I haven’t heard from her since.”

“Oh, Chairman-dear, don’t make it sound like that.” Woojin’s mother pipes up suddenly. She turns to Woojin. “It was nothing like that. Your father and your grandfather looked _all over_ for her. We were all very worried.”

Woojin blinks at her, expressionless. “Really?”

“You were very small at the time, I don’t think you would’ve remembered but, yes, we were all worried about Rose. She was such a sweet girl,” Woojin’s mother says. “She always played with you when you were little. You’d missed her a lot, right after she’d… left.”

“Don’t feed my son lies,” Woojin’s father says, putting his phone down. He fixes Woojin with a hard stare. “Your aunt was a disgrace to our family. She was selfish brat and thought she could do whatever she wanted, but we’d worked too hard to let her throw it all away. So she had to leave. It’s as simple as that.”

Woojin picks up a knife and spreads butter over his toast. “Would you do that to me?”

“If you deserved it, yes.” His father says, without even blinking.

“ _Chairman-dear_ ,” Woojin’s mother chides, but she doesn’t deny anything.

Woojin sighs and takes a bite of his toast.

 

_Fifteen years ago_

Rose finds herself standing in a narrow street with no streetlamps, knocking on a flimsy wooden door. She doesn’t know if this is the right number, but it’s getting dark and she doesn’t have any other choices left.

Jaehyun’s mother pulls the door open. “Rose? Jaehyun’s out at work, you shouldn’t have-”

“My dad kicked me out of the house.” Rose says, taking shallow breaths to keep her from stopping midsentence. “I know you don’t have room, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. He told all my other friends not to take me in.”

Jaehyun’s mother’s lips draw into a straight line, letting Rose know that she’d also gotten a call from Rose’s father. _That means she knows. And she must be really angry. I know I would be, if I were her._

“I know you’re probably very, _very_ mad at me, but I really didn’t mean to do this to Jaehyun,” Rose begs. “I just need somewhere to stay for tonight, then I’ll lea-”

“Come in.” Jaehyun’s mother steps aside. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No.” Rose admits.

“I just cooked some fish.” Jaehyun’s mother puts an arm around Rose. “Let’s eat it together.”


	37. “Honestly, I drool a little every time I see you” – Bang Chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you have to be like this?” 
> 
> “That’s how the world works, Chan.”
> 
> “That’s what assholes say, Woojin.”

_It’s been almost a week,_ Woojin thinks, closing his textbook. _And I can’t take it anymore._

He reaches for his phone. Chan’s number had been sitting there for weeks now, and he hadn’t touched it.

_Surely_ , Woojin thinks and he brings up the contact details. _I have the right to know how he’s doing at least? Just that?_

_Even if he hates me?_

Woojin hits the call button.

“Hello?” A groggy voice croaks from the other end.

Woojin glances at his clock. _Shit, it’s nearly ten, he might’ve been sleeping._

“Hello?” Chan croaks again. “Who is this?”

“It’s Woojin.”

“Oh.”

Woojin doesn’t know what he’d wanted to say. _Are you all right? How are you feeling? Did you really mean to kiss me or what that a fluke or do you not even remember it, because if you don’t remember it, that’ll be okay, too?_

“Thanks for returning my phone.” Chan says, breaking the silence.

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Woojin says. “Sorry I didn’t get it to you sooner.”

“It’s all right, I was actually fine without it.” Chan chuckles, then he sighs. “Are you busy right now?”

Woojin looks down at the textbook he’s been studying. “No. Why?”

“I… My parents made me stay at our vice principal’s place – it’s weird, I know, but she and Coach Park seem to have a thing going on so… yeah, anyway, I’ve been resting here for _days_ and there’s no one in this giant house – It’s kinda like yours, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Woojin smiles, imagining what Chan’s face looks like right now. He’s probably waving his hands around a lot, even if Woojin can’t see it. “Oh, I just remembered. You remember that room in my house?”

“The creepy dead girl room? Woojin, I’ve been resting but I haven’t been able to _sleep._ ”

Woojin laughs. “Okay, first thing’s first, she’s _not_ dead. So you can sleep easy now.”

Chan sigh of relief is so loud that Woojin laughs again. “Thank baby Jesus.”

“She’s my aunt, and I think she got kicked out of the house for… getting pregnant or something.”

“Well that’s shitty, but expected of your family, no offense. Where is she now?”

“Right now as in _right now_ , no idea.” Woojin says. “But she’s Jeongin’s mom.”

“So…” Chan hums, like he’s thinking really hard. “Holy shit, Jeongin’s your _nephew_?”

“He’s my _cousin_ , you idiot!” Woojin laughs so hard he falls back into his seat. “Sorry, that was just…”

“Real dumb of me. I haven’t been to school in almost a week, Woojin,” Chan groans. “I’m getting even stupider.”

“You’re not stupid, Chan.”

“Tell that to my math teacher. And my history teacher.” Chan sighs. “And my science teacher. Actually, just invite the whole damn faculty when you tell them that you, Kim Woojin, think that I, Bang Chan, am _not_ stupid.”

Woojin’s never heard Chan talk this much, and he can’t stop laughing. “You’ve really been cooped up in there for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Is it that obvious? I’m sure it’s obvious.” Chan groans again. “The vice principal’s got all these… _servants_ , I don’t know what to call them-”

“Household staff.”

“Okay, sure, but they’re _like_ servants. And they don’t talk to me. I am going _insane_ , Woojin. Please save me.”

Woojin looks at the clock again. “Where are you right now?”

“Have you not been listening? I’m in the vice principal’s house-”

“Address, Chan, I need an address.”

“Oh, you’re going to love this,” Chan says, and Woojin can _hear_ his grin. “It’s across the street from your place.”

Woojin stands and walks to the window. He can see the street from his room, but there’s nothing across the street but a park.

“I don’t…” Woojin had forgotten that his house filled the entire block, and has four streets bounding it. _Stupid, stupid rich boy._ “Which street?”

“I don’t know, but I see a lot of cars from my window. I also see you get home from training and stuff. Is that creepy?”

“Very, but I’m going to let that slide because you’re injured.” Woojin’s already grabbing a jacket and putting on socks. “So you’re facing the driveway?”

“Yeah. Wait, are you coming here?” Chan laughs. “I’m not allowed to have visitors. They didn’t even let the other guys on the team-”

“Am I anything like the other guys on your team, Bang Chan?”

Chan laughs again. “Not by a long shot.”

 

Chan slides into his slippers and opens the door. The hallway is dark and empty. He’d have planned this prisonbreak better, if he’d known it was going to happen, but he’d have to make do with the little that he _does_ know.

  1. This house is fucking gigantic.
  2. This house has too many rooms.
  3. And too many corridors.
  4. Oh shit, I’m lost already.



Chan traces his steps back up a white hallway to another white hallway. He’s never going to even _think_ of complaining about his own house ever again. _How could any person need more than two bedrooms and one hallway?_

Chan finds the front of the house facing the street, but it seems to be all windows and no doors. He’s sure this is one of those houses where an alarm would ring if he broke the window, and besides, he’d be a pretty crappy guest if he broke a window. His mother would be deeply disappointed, and probably buried in debt if they ever had to replace it.

“Door, door, door, door,” Chan mutters, walking all along the windows to find a door. “Aha!”

Chan twists the knob, but it’s locked. He looks for another way out. He tries every window, until he finds one bathroom window where the grilles can be opened from the inside. Chan, in his pajamas and house slippers and all, scales a toilet and a wall to squeeze out of a bathroom window and drop on the soft earth outside.

He frowns down at the stains on his pajamas, but he has no time to mourn them. He starts walking along the perimeter wall, which is a bit high for him to climb, and covered with a small electric fence. Chan’s worried his brain might not handle being shaken _and_ fried, so he doesn’t try his luck.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Chan picks up, lowering the volume of the call. “What?”

“I’m here. Where are you?”

“Here _where_?”

“Outside the gate.”

“Fuck.” Chan curses under his breath when he can’t find a gate. “I can’t find a gate!”

“Chan what the _hell_ -”

“Can _you_ find _me_?”

“I am _not_ breaking into my neighbor’s house in the middle of the night.”

“It’s only 10pm.” Chan says. “And I’m so fucking lost-” Chan spots something bright at the end of this narrow space between the house and the perimeter wall. “Hold that thought.”

He finds the front gate, which is made of slatted bars. Through the bars, he sees Woojin, who smiles and waves.

Chan starts climbing the bars.

 

Woojin doesn’t think Chan really thought this one through. _Maybe his head’s still not… in… good condition._

“Chan, wait,” Woojin says, when Chan reaches the top of the front gate.

Chan sits on the gate, wobbling just a worrying little bit. “Just, uh, stay there in case I- _whoops_!”

“Chan, _no_!” Woojin jumps forward and tries to catch Chan, but he crash-lands on top of Woojin, and they tumble down the driveway into a heap by the trash.

Woojin groans as he sits up, rubbing his sore elbow.

“Sorry.” Chan says. “I really had to get out of there.”

Woojin looks back at his house. “Same.”

“So, what now?” Chan gets up and brushes his pajama pants off.

“Well,” Woojin frowns at Chan’s really thin pajamas. “There’s nowhere for us to go around here, and it’s pretty late.”

“Don’t tell me I climbed that gate just for you to ask me to go back in.”

“I have money.” Woojin reaches into his pocket for his wallet. “We can take a taxi.”

Chan grins. “Oh, so you take taxis now?”

“You’re the one who said you didn’t like riding them alone.” Woojin smirks as he starts down the sidewalk.

Chan punches him in the arm. “I was just saying that because I didn’t want _you_ to get lost or kidnapped or-”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“Bully.”

 

Woojin’s not sure how much more of this bullshit his parents will be able to take. He’s skipped cram school, brought up his aunt, and that’s on top of everything else he’d done in the past few months.

_Has it been_ months _?_ Woojin looks over at Chan, who’s shivering in his pajamas. _Yeah, Chan’s been messing up my life for_ months _now._

Chan extends a hand.

Woojin shrugs his jacket off and puts it in Chan’s hand. “Here.”

“Oh, god, Woojin,” Chan shakes his head, handing the jacket back. “I wanted you to hold my hand.”

Woojin stops in his tracks. “Pardon?”

“ _Pardon_?” Chan mimics him, snorting. “Sorry, my head’s not screwed on straight yet. I’m probably gonna regret this later.”

Woojin nods and starts walking again. _He’s still concussed, Woojin, you should’ve let him stay in that house and rest. He probably needs it._

“Hey.” Chan says, catching up to Woojin. “You still didn’t hold my hand?”

“You said you would regret it.”

“Maybe.” Chan reaches out and wiggles his fingers. “Come on.”

Woojin stares at Chan’s hand.

 

“Do you remember kissing me?” Woojin asks.

Chan frowns. _Why the hell is he bringing that up right now? And like that? You’d think_ he’s _the one who’s concussed._

“Not really.” Chan answers honestly.

“Oh.” Woojin looks upset.

Chan wiggles his fingers some more. “I’m really cold, Woojin.”

“Then wear the jacket.”

“I want you to hold my hand.” Chan says forcefully, shaking his hand at Woojin.

“That’s the concussion speaking.”

“The concussion sure has a lot of sense, then.”

Woojin stops walking again. “What are we even doing, Chan? It’s late. I have school tomorrow, you should be resting, we’re not really going _anywhere_ -”

“If you don’t want to be here, you can go home.” Chan shrugs. “I’m not gonna _force_ you to hang out with me.”

 

Woojin heaves a sigh. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Me neither.” Chan extends his hand again. “But I’m really cold.”

Woojin rolls his eyes and takes Chan’s hand. “There. Better?”

Chan smiles at him. “Loads.”

 

They find themselves in a coffee shop that’s open till late, sipping their drinks with one hand and holding hands under the table with the other. The few people there are giving them weird looks, probably because they’re both in their pajamas, and though Woojin’s got a jacket and shoes on, Chan’s wearing nothing but fluffy house slippers.

Chan squeezes Woojin’s hand. “This is nice.”

“Not being out in the cold?” Woojin sips his coffee. “Yeah.”

Chan smiles at him. “Are you still gonna be nice to me?”

“What?”

“When I’m not concussed. Are you still gonna be nice to me, or are you going to go back to… you?”

Woojin sips his coffee again. “That’s not me. When I’m mean to you? That’s not really me.”

“I figured as much,” Chan shrugs. “But you’re just _so_ annoying and awful when you’re like that. I can’t help it. I get pissed off.”

“I’d be pissed at me, too.” Woojin drums his fingers on his mug. “I mean, I already am most of the time.”

Chan taps his own mug thoughtfully. “At least you’re not a total disappointment to your parents.”

“Are you kidding?” Woojin grins at him. “I asked my dad if he wouldn’t throw me out and he said he _would_ , if I deserved it.”

“The _fuck_?”

“I’m serious.” Woojin sighs. “I’m constantly disappointing my parents. And myself. And basically everyone.”

“Not me.” Chan beams.

Woojin chuckles and squeezes Chan’s hand. “Yeah. Except you.”

Chan leans his head on Woojin’s shoulder, ignoring the looks from the other three people in the café. “I’m not going to graduate.”

Woojin tries to turn his face to frown at Chan, but Chan’s too close. “What?”

“I’m flunking three subjects. I’ll have to repeat this year.” Chan says. “And who knows if I’ll even get into a college after that.”

Woojin grips Chan’s hand. “You still have a semester left, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Chan nods, but his expression is resigned. “But there’s not much I can do if I’m just plain dumb.”

“You are _not_.” Woojin says forcefully. “I’m going to testify to your teachers, remember? I, Kim Woojin, of sound mind and body-”

“ _Very_ sound body.” Chan corrects him.

Woojin blushes and kicks Chan under the table.

“Thanks.” Chan says softly, leaning his head against Woojin’s shoulder again. “I needed that.”

“A kick to the shins? Yeah, probably.” Woojin nudges Chan. “Stop checking people out without their permission.”

“Come on, _you’re_ the only one I check out.” Chan says. “And you don’t really leave me much of a choice. You’re _so_ hot-”

“Stop. It.” Woojin kicks Chan in the shin again, looking warily at the other people in the café.

“Honestly, I drool a little every time I see you.”

“Bang Chan, _please_ shut up.”

“Oh, there it is,” Chan wipes his mouth on his sleeve, then reaches out and closes the top button of Woojin’s pajamas, which had come loose. “ _Jeez_ , Woojin, give us a break.”

Woojin laughs and closes his top button on his own. “You are _so_ going to regret everything you’re saying right now.”

 

The sun is rising on their left by the time they’re walking back up the road to Woojin’s house and the vice principal’s house.

Chan hasn’t let go of Woojin’s hand, and Woojin has no plans of letting go of Chan’s, either.

“Sorry I kept you up all night.” Chan says, giving Woojin’s hand a light squeeze.

“It’s okay.” Woojin says, though he knows that he’s going to be a zombie by the time training rolls around, and his homework’s not finished, and it’s much harder to sneak back into his house when all the staff are up.

The weight of Chan’s hand in his makes everything worth it.

They stop in front of the tall black gate of the vice principal’s house, and Woojin lets out a sigh when he has to let go. “I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks for tonight.” Chan smiles. “I think I’m all better now.”

“You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Maybe I will.” Chan shrugs. Then he sees the nervous look on Woojin’s face and says, “I’m kidding, I’m really fine. I’ll just nap it out. It’s you I’m worried about. Are you still going to school?”

“I have to.” Woojin says, not leaving it open to questioning.

“Okay, but just take it easy,” Chan says, turning to the gate.

“Wait, Chan?”

“Yeah?” Chan turns around hopefully.

Woojin leans forward and kisses Chan on the lips. They both taste like coffee, and Woojin smiles into the kiss.

Chan jumps back in surprise. “Dude, _warn_ me next time-”

“You didn’t warn me the first time!” Woojin says. “Now we’re even.”

“Why do you have to be like this?” Chan laughs, smacking Woojin on the arm.

“That’s how the world works, Chan.”

“That’s what assholes say, Woojin.”

Woojin and Chan draw closer for another kiss, though this time they can’t rightly say who’d stolen it.

“I’ve really got to go,” Woojin mumbles against Chan’s lips.

“Yeah, sorry for holding you up.” Chan sighs back.

Woojin gently leans his forehead against Chan’s for a moment, then turns to cross the street and break back into his house.

Chan stands there in his pajamas, unapologetically checking out Woojin’s silhouette as he scales his house’s perimeter wall in the early morning sun.

_Daaaaamn._


	38. “No homophobia in this car” -Han Jisung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _  
> HJ: SEUNGMIN!!!_
> 
> _HJ: DUDE!!!_
> 
> _HJ: YOU’RE ONLINE!!!_
> 
> _HJ: Haven’t talked to you in so long!!!_
> 
> _SM: Chill it’s been like 3 days_
> 
> _HJ: That’s 72 hours_
> 
> _SM: Anyway, what’s your brother up to?_
> 
> _SM: I thought his new job’s been keeping him busy_
> 
> _HJ: 4320 minutes_
> 
> _SM: HYUNJIN_
> 
> _HJ: Sorry I needed to use to the calculator for that  
> _

“Aren’t we worried?” Minho asks as they wind down after a long afternoon of training. “We’re up against the _Tigers_ tomorrow.”

“Why? What’s with the Tigers?” Seungmin asks.

“We’ve beaten them before, we can beat them again.” Woojin says, taking a long sip of water from his jug.

“They bought the umpire off in their match against the Weevils.” Minho explains to Seungmin. “It was hard to watch.”

“That’s an understatement.” Woojin closes his water jug and drops it back in his bag.

“Woojin’s boyfriend ended up in the hospital.” Minho says to Seungmin behind one hand. He turns to Woojin. “How is he, by the way?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Woojin says calmly, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “And he’s fine, thanks for asking.”

“How fine can you be after someone pitches a ball into your head?” Minho asks.

“He was being dumb and he didn’t dodge it.” Woojin says.

“Wow,” Minho shakes his head. “He’s really lucky to have you, isn’t he?”

Woojin smirks as he starts towards the door of the locker room. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

“See you, Cap.” Seungmin says, smiling. When Woojin leaves, he leans over to Minho and says, “I’m glad to have him back.”

“Yeah, I guess I am, too.”

 

Seungmin checks his phone on the bus ride home.

_7 new messages from Hyunjin._

_HJ: Are you guys the ones against the Tigers tomorrow?_

_HJ: I think I’m gonna be there_

_HJ: My brother’s stirring stuff up_

_HJ: He’s still really mad about last weekend_

_HJ: I mean, I am too_

_HJ: But my brother… when he’s ANGRY…_

_HJ: *volcano sticker*_

Seungmin laughs. He notices the other people in the bus looking at him weird, so he pulls his mouth into a line and looks back down at his phone.

_SM: Yeah, we’re against the Tigers tomorrow_

_SM: Minho seems worried, but Cap isn’t_

_SM: *curious cat sticker*_

_SM: What kind of stuff is your brother stirring up?_

_HJ: SEUNGMIN!!!_

_HJ: DUDE!!!_

_HJ: YOU’RE ONLINE!!!_

_HJ: Haven’t talked to you in so long!!!_

_SM: Chill it’s been like 3 days_

_HJ: That’s 72 hours_

_SM: Anyway, what’s your brother up to?_

_SM: I thought his new job’s been keeping him busy_

_HJ: 4320 minutes_

_SM: HYUNJIN_

_HJ: Sorry I needed to use to the calculator for that_

_HJ: Anyway idek_

_HJ: He’s been busy, yeah, but after last weekend he was like_

_HJ: *volcano sticker*_

_HJ: *volcano sticker*_

_HJ: *volcano sticker*_

_SM: lmao_

_SM: I mean, yeah, that was really crappy of the Tigers_

_SM: I hope they don’t try it again tomorrow_

_HJ: Yeah_

_HJ: I don’t trust their pitcher at all_

_HJ: He sucks_

_SM: Not everyone can be as good as you, Hyunjin_

_SM: *cat rolling eyes sticker*_

_HJ: …_

Seungmin waits while the ellipsis appears and disappears on his screen.

_HJ: *exploding heart sticker*_

Seungmin smiles.

_HJ: Just get out of the way when he throws the ball_

_HJ: If he hits you, I am going to kill him_

_HJ: Like, for real_

_SM: Please don’t kill anybody_

_SM: Unless they deserve it_

_SM: *winking cat with a knife sticker*_

_HJ: I’m serious tho_

_HJ: I will kill him_

“Home, sir?” The chauffeur asks Woojin.

“No, could we go to this address, please?” Woojin points at a highlighted one on the Team Information Sheet. Being captain has its perks.

The chauffeur looks at the address and thinks for a minute, then nods and starts the car.

 

Seungmin picks up a pebble in the pocket garden by the street and throws it at the window of his apartment building.

Seungmin’s older sister pops her head out. “Whaaaat?”

“Open the door!”

“Ugh, fine.”

Seungmin grins when the front door buzzes open. “Thanks!”

“Use the intercom like a normal person!” His sister grumbles, sliding the window shut again.

Seungmin skips up the steps to the second floor, stopping to pat a rubber plant on the landing on its topmost leaves.

He beeps the code into their house and kicks off his shoes, lining them up neatly with the others so his sister doesn’t throw a fit.

_Speaking of which…_ He peeks into his sister’s room. “You’re a lawyer, right?”

“I am a third-year law student, Seungmin.” His sister replies dryly.

“I think my friend’s brother is going to need a lawyer soon.” Seungmin says.

“Is he cute?”

Seungmin furrows his brow. _Is Hyunjin’s brother cute? Not as cute as Hyunjin, granted, but it’s not fair to compare other people to Hyunjin._ “I think so.”

“Okay, then, I’m a lawyer now.” Seungmin’s older sister says, cracking her knuckles. “What’s his name?”

“Park Jinyoung.”

Seungmin’s sister frowns. “Like… the baseball guy?”

“No, not our coach, they have the same name, but he’s way younger.” Seungmin says. “He’s from W------ High.”

“ _I’m_ from W------- High, you bozo.” Seungmin’s sister flicks him on the head. “And I know him. He was my classmate!”

“What, really?” Seungmin’s mind is swimming with all the new connections it has to make. _Hyunjin’s brother… was classmates… with my sister???_

“Yeah, he was kind of a legend. The coach really screwed him over in his last year.” Seungmin’s sister says. “It’s kind of late for him to be plotting revenge, though?”

“I don’t think he’s plotting revenge.”

“Oh, Seungmin honey, I know Jinyoung, and he is _definitely_ plotting revenge.”

Seungmin frowns as he pads over to his room.

_SM: Apparently my sister was classmates with your brother in high school_

_HJ: You’RE ONLINE AGAIN!!!_

_HJ: woah really?_

_SM: Yeah_

_SM: She’s from your high school_

_HJ: Oh I’ll ask hyung_

_SM: He’s there with you?_

_SM: Tell him I said hi_ _😊_

Hyunjin looks up from his phone. “Seungmin says hi.”

His brother frowns, eyes still on the road. “Seungmin?”

“Hyunjin’s boyfriend.” Jisung says from the backseat.

Jinyoung hits the brakes a little hard, and Jisung flies forward into the console.

Jinyoung frowns at him. “Wear your seatbelt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung grumbles, clipping himself in.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Hyunjin says. “Not everyone is you, Jisung.”

“Hey. No homophobia in this car.”

“This is _my_ car.” Jinyoung says, stepping on the gas a split second before the light turns green. “And no one’s being homophobic in it.” He looks at Hyunjin for a moment. “Who’s Seungmin?”

“He’s one of the Bears.” Hyunjin says.

“He’s the nice one,” Jisung adds. “Like, the _only_ nice one.”

“Oh, that one? He’s a good kid.” Jinyoung nods. “Tell him I said hi back.”

Hyunjin nods and starts typing dutifully.

_HJ: Hyung says hi_

_HJ: What’s your sister’s name again_

_SM: Jimin_

_HJ: o ok_

“Hey hyung?” Hyunjin asks.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember someone from high school named Lee Jimin?”

Hyunjin’s brother narrowly misses crashing them into a tree. “Jimin? Yeah. We weren’t very close.”

_HJ: He says they weren’t close_

Jimin’s looking over Seungmin’s shoulder as he types. “Oh, that’s bullshit. We were _super_ close.”

Seungmin frowns up at his sister. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve seen his bare ass, Seungmin,” Jimin says. “Tell me that’s _not_ close.”

_SM: She said she’s seen his bare ass_

“SEUNGMIN! WHY DID YOU SEND THAT!”

 

Hyunjin lifts his eyebrows at his phone. “Seungmin’s sister said she’s seen your bare ass.”

Jinyoung hits the brakes so hard that Jisung knocks his forehead into Hyunjin’s seat.

“Ow, _Jesus_ , I’m walking home next time!” Jisung whines.

“Tell him to tell _her_ to keep that to _herself_!” Jinyoung squawks.

Hyunjin types it out.

_HJ: Hyung said to tell your sister to keep that to herself_

Seungmin’s sister takes a peek at Seungmin’s phone, then laughs so hard that she snorts. “Oh that dear, sweet, _apple-bottomed_ Jinyoung…”

Seungmin looks up at her in mild disgust. “Should I type that?”

“No, haha what the hell.” Seungmin’s sister ruffles his hair. “Anyway, thanks for the entertainment. I’m going to go drown myself in readings, see you again in a week.”

“See you.” Seungmin even waves as she leaves.

 

Woojin’s car rolls to a stop outside a cramped apartment building that seems to have squeezed itself in between two apartment buildings that didn’t want it around.

He thanks the chauffeur and steps out.

“Will you be long?”

Woojin looks up at the building. “Not sure. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Woojin, I am seriously going to lose my job if you do something like that again.” The chauffeur says tensely. “I’m waiting right here.”

“Okay.” Woojin says a little guiltily.

He rings the buzzer for unit 305.

“Hello?”

Woojin’s shoulder sag with relief when he hears a woman’s voice over the intercom. “Auntie Rose, it’s me, Woojin. Can I come in?”

“W- Woojin?” There’s a rustling noise. “Oh, no it’s nothing darling, I invited him. Yes. Okay, you can come up.”

The door buzzes open, and Woojin starts up the narrowest stairs he’s ever had to climb.

He finds the door to unit 305, and it’s so short and narrow that it seems like that door in _Alice In Wonderland_ that she had to shrink to get into.

Woojin knocks, because the door itself doesn’t have a buzzer.

Jeongin’s mom opens the door. “Come in, come in.”

Woojin steps inside to find Jeongin and his dad sitting by the kitchen counter, munching menacingly on ears of corn as they look his way.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Jeongin asks.

“Jeongin, baby,” Jeongin’s mom starts slowly. “Woojin is, uh…”

“I’m your cousin.” Woojin says.

Jeongin sputters, spraying the kitchen countertop with bits of half-chewed corn. “ _What_?”

Jeongin’s father looks heavenward. “Oh God…”

 

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!” Jeongin snaps an ear of corn in half.

“No one told me, either!” Woojin says.

“But your parents are jerks. Mine are…” Jeongin narrows his eyes at his parents. “…not as honest as I thought they were.”

Jeongin’s parents open their mouths at the same time to defend themselves, but Jeongin’s dad steps back and gestures for Jeongin’s mom to go on ahead.

“I didn’t want to have to tell you about what happened with my family,” Jeongin’s mom says. “I didn’t want you to feel bad about it.”

“Feel bad about _what_?” Jeongin frowns at his mother, then his father, then Woojin, but no one meets his eyes. “Honestly, am I the only person here who doesn’t know what _hell_ is going on?”

“Jeonginnie.” His father says sharply.

“Sorry.” Jeongin huffs and crosses his arms. “But seriously, is no one going to tell me what’s going on?”

Woojin looks at Jeongin’s parents for help. It’s not his place to tell Jeongin that he was an accident (though _surely,_ he must’ve figured that out by now) and the reason why his mother had gotten kicked out of her house.

“Baby, I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, okay?” Jeongin’s mom wraps an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. She turns to Woojin, still hugging Jeongin. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here all of a sudden?”

“I came here to apologize.” Woojin says. “I mean, whether Jeongin’s my cousin or not, I shouldn’t have done that to him. It’s just worse now that I know we’re… related.”

“This is never not going to be weird.” Jeongin says.

Jeongin’s mother nudges her son.

“I mean, I forgive you, Cap.” Jeongin says. “I mean, _Cuz_. Yuck, no, I’m sticking to Cap.”

“Yeah, please do.” Woojin grimaces. He looks up at his aunt. “And I’m sorry for everything my dad and grandad did to you. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

Jeongin’s mom sniffles. “Oh, Woojinnie.”

“I’m not going to be like them.”

“I know you’re not.” Jeongin’s mom says, reaching out and squeezing Woojin’s hand.

“And I’m not going to just go with their bullshit.” Woojin notices his aunt and uncle flinch at the word, so he says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s okay.” Jeongin’s dad says.

“Dad _dy_! How come it’s okay when _he_ says it but when _I_ say it-”

“Sit down and eat your corn, Jeongin.” Jeongin’s dad says, pretending to be stern, but then he starts laughing.

Jeongin’s mom squeezes Woojin’s hand again. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

Woojin thinks about the poor chauffeur waiting downstairs. _And the other things you need to do…_

“I’d love to, but I have something else to do.” Woojin says. “Maybe some other time.”

Jeongin shields his mouth with one hand and whispers, “You really dodged a bullet, _Mommy’s_ cooking tonight.”

“Yang Jeongin.” Jeongin’s mom flicks him on the top of his head with a finger.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to pretend to hate you anymore, Cap.” Jeongin pouts, rubbing his head. “It was so _hard_.”

Woojin laughs. _Jeongin’s ridiculous._ “I’m glad, too.”

“Come by whenever you want, okay?” Jeongin’s dad says, holding the front door for Woojin as he steps out.

“I will.”

Woojin’s at the base of the stairs when he hears the slap of slippers behind him. He turns to find Jeongin’s mom barreling down the steep steps at a worrying pace.

“Did I forget something?” Woojin asks.

“I just thought you should know,” Jeongin’s mom says. “Your grandad’s not all bad, and neither is your dad. They just made bad decisions, and they were probably too proud to change their minds when they realized what they’d done.”

“That’s pretty _bad_.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not excusing them.” Jeongin’s mom nods. “We really suffered because of them, my husband especially. But they’re not _all_ bad, is what I’m saying. When your grandad died, he left enough money to send Jeongin all the way to university. That’s why Jeongin’s in your school now, actually, even if we live in a place like this.”

_If she cries, I’m going to cry, so she’d_ better _not_. Woojin thinks as tears collect in his aunt’s eyes. “So you’re saying I should wait for my dad to die to redeem himself?”

Jeongin’s mom laughs, then sniffles into her sweater sleeve for a moment. “All I’m saying is that even if you’re a _little_ like them, you shouldn’t hate yourself.”

Woojin sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

“Trust me, I am.” Jeongin’s mom opens her arms for a hug. “Take care of yourself, okay? And come back soon.”

Woojin feels her jump with a start when he actually hugs her. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t used to know how to hug people.” She laughs, patting Woojin on the back. “I remember finding that super weird.”

Woojin’s thinking about Chan again.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice lately.”


	39. The #1 Most Attractive Person EVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woojin slings an arm casually around Chan’s shoulders, in the universal way of saying, _Mine_. He gives the Tigers’ pitcher a dry smile. “Hey man, sorry about hitting your shoulder.”
> 
> “It’s okay.” The Tigers’ pitcher says nervously, glancing back and forth between Chan and Woojin. “It happens, right?”
> 
> “Yeah.” Woojin says vaguely. “It happens.”

“Well _helloooo_ there, Cap,” Someone calls with a painfully sleazy tone when Chan climbs the bleachers.

“Hi Jisung.” Chan says, debating whether to sit next to Jisung or not.

“And what are _yoooou_ doing here?” Jisung carries on in that greasy tone.

“Watching the game.” Chan says curtly, giving up and sitting next to Jisung.

“For _whooooom_?”

“Jisung, get off his case, you’re here for the same reason.” Hyunjin says, plopping down on Chan’s other side.

Jisung leans and frowns at Hyunjin. “Wait a sec, what are _you_ doing here?”

“Watching the game.” Hyunjin replies innocently.

“A few more people and we’ll be able to rematch the Tigers.” Jisung says, leaning back in his seat. A girl tries to take the empty seat next to Hyunjin, but Jisung tells her, “Sorry, this is a Weevils-only bench.”

The girl makes a face and climbs up.

Hyunjin heaves a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“No problemo.” Jisung says.

 

Woojin looks up at the stands to find Chan flanked on either side by Minho’s boyfriend and the Weevils’ new pitcher. Woojin laughs until he notices Seungmin giving him a weird look.

“What is it?”

“Coach Park wants to talk to you.” Seungmin says.

Woojin finds Coach Park sitting in the shade, sipping a Coke. “What did you want?”

“That’s no way to talk to your coach, Woojin.”

“Sorry.” Woojin straightens his back. “What did you want, _sir_?”

“Don’t be such a little shit.” Coach Park lowers his shades to glare at Woojin. “You heard the rumors about NC Tech?”

“Yes.” Woojin says. “And they’re not rumors. I was at the game last week.”

“Scouting out the competition? There’s hope for you yet.” Coach Park takes a long sip of Coke. “I want you to shut them out, and leave no doubt about it in the umpire’s mind.”

Woojin thinks of the Weevils’ new pitcher, whom Woojin feels might be better than _him_.

“Doesn’t matter if the umpire’s already been bought, sir.”

“Yeah, he has.” Coach Park says. “I just hope our deposit’s bigger.”

Woojin scowls. _Of course this is how the game’s going to play out._

Seungmin’s first at bat. He’d watched the Tigers’ pitcher during warmups, and the guy’s form looks perfect, but his throws are all over the place. Seungmin can’t judge whether that’s a good or bad thing.

He lifts the bat and narrows his eyes at the pitcher.

The pitcher winds up, and it’s really a delight to watch, because his form looks _perfect_.

Then the ball flies down to the ground, and Seungmin knows that there’s no point in trying to sweep it up. The ball bounces off the home plate and into the catcher’s glove.

“Strike!” The umpire calls.

Seungmin frowns at the umpire, then back at his coach and teammates in the dugout. _Oh no…_

“Coach.” Woojin says, leaning to Coach Park. “I feel like their deposit was bigger.”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Let’s see what happens.”

Woojin gets up and walks to the far end of their dugout. He doesn’t want to watch another game like this. He loves the goddamn sport too much.

“Cap.” Minho says, tugging on the elbow of Woojin’s underarmor.

“What?”

“How are we going to beat them now?” Minho asks, just as Seungmin’s mysteriously struck out.

“I don’t-” Woojin notices two people slowly, calmly making their way to the stands like they aren’t worried in the least that the game had already started. “I’ll try to fix it.”

He walks over to intercept his parents before they start climbing the stairs. “Mom! Father! You didn’t say you were coming today.”

“It’s a semifinal game. How could we miss it?” Woojin’s father asks, like Woojin’s stupid for not having seen that.

“I, uh, about that. We have a problem.” Woojin glances back at the field, where one of his other teammates is getting struck out for no good reason.

He doesn’t need to say anything, because his father had noticed. His father may have outright told Woojin that he was bad at baseball and didn’t care much for the sport, but at least he knows a blatantly rigged game when he sees one.

“What the _hell_ is this?” Woojin’s father clenches his jaw.

“Chairman-dear, watch your blood pressure,” Woojin’s mother says, resting a hand on her husband’s forearm.

Woojin only smiles when he sees the vein bulge in his father’s temple. “I’ve got to get back to the game now. I’ll see you two later.”

He walks back to Minho and says, “Don’t worry, we’ve got this in the bag.”

“We’d better.” Minho says, just as he’s being called to bat. “If I get struck out by a bunch of _balls_ , I’m throwing another ball at your boyfriend’s head.”

“Hey.” Woojin snaps. “Too soon. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever you say, Cap.”

 

Chan sneezes.

“Dude, are you still sick?” Jisung asks, edging away.

“I got a concussion, it’s not contagious.” Chan grumbles. He looks down at the field, where Minho’s dragging the bat to the home plate. Chan had never thought anything in particular about Minho, except that he seems a little bit mean, but at this very moment, Chan is deeply and genuinely afraid of him.

Minho makes a rude gesture at the Tigers’ pitcher and says something that Chan can’t hear from the stands. Whatever it is, the shortstop lunges forward, looking ready to _hurt_ Minho.

For once, Chan’s glad he’s not on the field.

“What’s going on?” Hyunjin asks.

“Don’t know,” Jisung says. “But I’d watch my backs if I were them.”

 

Minho shrugs his shoulders and lifts the bat.

“You didn’t have to be so harsh.” The Tigers’ catcher says.

“Was I wrong, though?” Minho asks as he sticks his butt out.

“Nope.” The Tigers’ catcher admits.

Minho watches the Tigers’ pitcher, his windup suddenly a litte off-balance.

The ball actually flies towards the right place for a change.

Minho doesn’t hesitate and swings, feeling a tingle run down his spine when the ball hits the bat and starts _flying_.

He’s safely on second base when the umpire decides to call it a foul ball.

“What the _fuck_?” Minho shouts, staying firmly at second base.

“Go back!” The umpire points at the home plate. “Go back!”

“No! Stop pulling calls out of your ass!” Minho shouts. “Use your damn eyes!”

The second baseman snickers, disguising it as a cough.

 

“What the hell is he doing?” Coach Park squints at the field through his sunglasses. He’s just checked a text message earlier, but now he’s pocketed his phone again.

“Minho refuses to leave, sir.” One of the Bears replies.

“I know that, and he’s right.” Coach Park stands up. “I’m talking about the umpire.”

 

Minho’s never been happier to see Coach Park. The coach storms over and calls the umpire over like a dog.

“You! Come here! What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Coach Park shouts.

“We’ll have to penalize your team if-”

“I’ll have the federation penalize your _ass_ if you keep fucking up like this!” Coach Park shouts.

“Coach, you have to stand down-”

“Do you know who that is?” Coach Park asks, pointing at a figure in the stands.

“Uh…no.” The umpire says, adding “Sir” as an afterthought.

“That’s Chairman Kim, the son of Kim Chil-hyun. _The_ Kim Chil-hyun.” Coach Park lets the gravity of those names sink into the umpire’s skull. “Kim Chil-hyun’s grandson’s playing today, and I don’t know what his dad’s going to tell the Board when he sees the way you’re ruining this match.”

Minho smiles. Coach Park telling someone off who _deserves_ it for a change feels like ASMR.

“I, ah, uh… Sorry, Coach.” The umpire turns to Minho and freaking _bows_. “Stay where you are, boy.”

Minho smiles and waves. “No problem, ump!”

 

Woojin feels only a little bit sick at how quickly his father and Coach Park had bullied the umpire into submission.

“Go Cap!” One of the Bears says, handing Woojin a bat.

The Tigers all visibly flinch when Woojin steps up to the plate. Woojin used to like that, when people knew exactly who he was and would actually cower a little in fear when he came close, but he just feels altogether uncomfortable with it now.

Woojin lifts the bat and glares at the Tigers’ pitcher.

_Oh,_ you.

_You don’t deserve Nice Woojin._

The ball flies obediently towards Woojin and not anywhere else. _So you_ can _pitch._

Woojin builds a little momentum into his swing, then aims it straight. Not up or out, just _straight_.

 

Chan flinches when the ball hits the Tigers’ pitcher right in the shoulder of his throwing arm. The smacking of the ball into flesh and bone is loud enough to reach Chan in the bleachers. _Oh, Woojin…_

The ball bounces aimlessly into the middle of the diamond, and both the pitcher and the shortstop seem too stunned to make a grab for it. Woojin runs to first, just as Minho storms past third.

Jisung yips gleefully from Chan’s right when Minho slides dramatically onto the home plate.

Chan watches Woojin glance quickly around him and keep running towards second. The pitcher had picked up the ball at this point and thrown it to second base.

_Don’t push it,_ Chan shouts at Woojin internally. _Stop at second._

But Woojin, being Woojin, shoots one look at the Tigers’ pitcher and runs to third.

The Tigers’ pitcher is shouting now, and the ball is flying towards third, and it’s going to make it there before Woojin does.

Chan, being the wimp he is, closes his eyes.

Jisung screams suddenly. “YEAAAAAH! WOOJIN!”

Chan opens one eye just a peek to find Woojin panting heavily in the dirt, touching third base with the the very tip of one toe. The umpire looks at the stands, mops his forehead, and declares Woojin safe.

Chan sighs. Woojin’s never going to give him a break, is he?

 

The match flies by without any further trouble, probably because Chan’s guardian angel is really working _hard._

_Thanks,_ Chan tells the sky as he climbs down the bleachers.

Hyunjin gives Seungmin one friendly nod. Chan wouldn’t dare do that. _Woojin would probably beat me up if I did that._

Jisung jumps into Minho’s waiting arms and kisses him, with tongue, to everyone’s discomfort. _Can’t do that either,_ Chan thinks, however tempted he is.

Chan decides to lean on a post and say, “Hey Woojin.”

Woojin smiles. “Hey. You feeling better?”

“Yeah, for the most part,” Chan shrugs. “Except for the part where you nearly dislocated someone’s shoulder today.”

Woojin’s smirk is less than kind. “It was an accident. But he deserved it, didn’t he? So now we’re even.”

“No, Woojin,” Chan sighs. “Revenge is _not_ good. Ever. You should stop trying to get re-”

Chan’s interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Hi, uh, I’m Jeno, I’m pitcher for the Tigers.”

Chan finds himself looking at a guy so pretty that he bumps Woojin down Chan’s _Most Attractive People_ List to second for a moment. Then the moment is over and Chan gets his bearings again, and Woojin shoots back up to first on Chan’s _Most Attractive People_ List.

“Hi.” Chan says, after that moment of weakness. “I’m Chan.”

“I know.” Jeno grimaces. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Good. I’m good now, thanks for asking.” Chan looks at the weird way his arm is hanging. “How’s your shoulder doing?”

“Oh.” Jeno casts a wary glance at Woojin. “It’s- It’s okay, thanks. For asking, I mean. Thanks for asking.”

“That’s good.” Chan nods. “I hope it gets better soon.”

“You too.” Jeno says. “I mean, your head. I hope it gets better soon. I’m really sorry about hitting it last week. I didn’t mean to.”

Woojin slings an arm casually around Chan’s shoulders, in the universal way of saying, _Mine._ “Hey man, sorry about hitting your shoulder.”

“It’s okay.” Jeno says nervously, glancing back and forth between Chan and Woojin. “It happens, right?”

“Yeah.” Woojin says vaguely. “It happens.”

“I uh, got to go, but um… Good game. Congrats, I mean.” Jeno says suddenly to Woojin before walking off at a brisk pace.

Woojin snorts.

“Woojin.” Chan says sternly. “Don’t be mean. And _stop_ taking revenge on people, it’s not healthy.”

“It’s the way the world works.” Woojin pecks Chan on the cheek so quickly there’s no way anyone could have seen it. Chan’s not even sure it happened himself. “I’ve got to catch up with my parents and thank them for, uh, _un-rigging_ the game.”

“Oh, of course.” Chan nods. “I’ll see you around?”

Woojin mimes a Y-shape with one hand. “I’ll call you.” He says with a quick wink.

Chan bites his lip. _No one’s kicking Woojin off that #1 Most Attractive Person spot,_ ever _._

Woojin’s sitting in a nice restaurant with his parents, who are each absorbed in their phones as they take a bite of their quickly cooling gourmet meals every now and then. Woojin’s finished his food, and now he’s got nothing to do but watch them stare at their phones.

_And they say_ my _generation’s glued to our phones._ Woojin rolls his eyes.

“Father,” Woojin says, taking a sip of sparkling water.

“Yes?” His father replies promptly, even though he never takes his eyes off his emails. Woojin had forgotten how convenient it was being on his dad’s good side.

_Time to change that._

“Why didn’t you tell me that Yang Jeongin was my cousin?”

Woojin’s mother gasps and drops a piece of scallop on the tablecloth. She calls a waiter over, clicking her tongue and asking for the entire tablecloth to be replaced.

“You never asked.” Is Woojin’s father’s simple reply.

“Well,” Woojin says, pretending to think for a moment. “Don’t you feel bad about what we’ve done to him, considering he’s family?”

Woojin’s father scrolls dwon some more emails, but he’s not reading any.

“You always say family comes first.” Woojin says. “Then how can we do that to Jeongin?”

Woojin’s father puts his phone down in exasperation. “Are you _ever_ going to let this go?”

“Not for as long as Jeongin’s my cousin.” Woojin says.

“Woojin, we are having a nice family lunch in _public_ ,” His mother says, emphasizing the word, though they’re dining in a private room. “Let’s _enjoy_ it.”

“I’m enjoying myself, Mom.”

“ _Behave_ yourself, Woojin.”

“I’m just reminding Father about the importance of family.”

Woojin’s mother puts a fork down, hard. “Those people are _not_ our family. They don’t deserve to be called that.”

“That’s a bit elitist of you, isn’t it, Mom?”

“ _Kim_ _Woojin_ -”

“Please shut up, the both of you. This isn’t worth ruining my lunch over.” Woojin’s father picks his phone up again irritably, dialing a number. “Hello? Coach Park?”

Woojin grins.

“Yes, thank you for your help earlier. Yes, it was some quick thinking on your part.” Woojin’s father says dryly. “I’m afraid I have one more request of you.”

 

Jeongin smiles when he walks into the kitchen to find his parents kissing again. Then he remembers to be grossed out and makes a loud gagging noise to break them up.

“Mommyyyy,” Jeongin whines. “I’m hungry. Can you make me a snack please?”

Jeongin’s mom leaves one last kiss on Jeongin’s dad’s cheek before turning to Jeongin with a stern expression. “I thought you didn’t like my cooking.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Jeongin starts sweating. “ _My_ cooking is worse.”

“You don’t cook at all, Jeongin.” His dad scoffs. Then he looks thoughtful. “Which reminds me, I have to start teaching you to-”

“Nooooo please,” Jeongin dives behind his mom, hugging her around the tummy. “Mommy, don’t let him teach me how to cook.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Jeongin’s mom asks, laughing.

“You’re going to have to help your Mommy out more when the baby arrives.” Jeongin’s dad says.

“ _Arrives_?” Jeongin makes a face as he points at his mom’s stomach. “It’s already _here_.”

“Then you should start learning to cook _now_.” Jeongin’s mom says.

Jeongin groans and he’s about to try to whine his way out of this when the buzzer rings. Jeongin’s dad answers it. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s me, Woojin, I have some really good news.”

Jeongin sprints to the door and hits the buzzer. “Sure! Come in!”

Jeongin’s parents exchange eyerolls.

 

“Jeongin’s back in Team A, effective Monday.” Woojin beams.

“Are you s- serious?” Jeongin sputters.

“Yeah.” Woojin nods. “I’m the one who got you kicked out in the first place, so it wasn’t too hard getting you back.”

Jeongin’s mom runs and tackles Woojin in a hug.

“Mommy, you’re not supposed to be happier about this than I am.” Jeongin pouts.

“Whatever, baby, I _am_ ,” Jeongin’s mom squeezes Woojin so tightly in her arms that Woojin feels his ribs close to giving way.

Jeongin’s dad carefully pries his wife off Woojin before she breaks something in her excitement. He smiles at Woojin. “I suppose you can stay for dinner _tonight_?”

Woojin had already made a deal with the chauffeur, of course. “Yes.”

“Good.” Jeongin’s dad claps Woojin on the arm. “Because Jeongin’s cooking.”

Woojin feels the blood leave his face. “What?”

“Jeongin’s cooking dinner.” Jeongin’s dad says.

“On second thought,” Woojin turns to the door. “I have a lot of homework-”

“No, no, no,” Jeongin’s dad blocks the door. “You’re staying for dinner.”

Jeongin’s mom tilts her head at Woojin. “Do _you_ know how to cook?”

Woojin starts to feel faint.

“Mommy, you can’t torment other people’s kids.” Jeongin says. He mouths at Woojin, ‘ _RUN_!’

“I can when they’re my brother’s kids,” Jeongin’s mom squeezes Woojin’s arm, stopping him from taking another step. “Maybe you and Jeongin can learn to cook _together_.”

Woojin grimaces at his aunt. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” Jeongin and his father say at once.


	40. Call Me Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Finals are canceled!” Felix squawks. 
> 
> Chan grins from ear to ear. _Final exams??? CANCELED???_
> 
> “No, dumbass, they’re not canceled,” Jisung flicks Felix on the arm. “They’re just postponed.”
> 
> “Wait…” Chan holds his hands up to stop his teammates from going at each other in the middle of the cafeteria. “They’re postponing the final exams???”
> 
> Chan’s grin falters when he sees Jisung, Changbin, and Felix’s expressions, which seem to be saying, _Are you being fucking serious right now?_
> 
> “Cap… no.” Changbin makes a face.
> 
> “It’s the finals for… baseball, Cap.” Felix says gently. “Not school.”
> 
> “Oh.” Chan’s entire face goes cherry red. “My bad.”

“Bang Chan.” Chan’s mother says sternly, uncrossing her arms like she’s about to reach for her slipper.

Chan looks up innocently. “What’s up, Mama?”

“Have you done your homework yet?”

Chan’s mouth curves into a grimace. “Uh…”

“Stop that! Go do your homework first!” Chan’s mom snaps.

“But Mama-”

“Bang Chan, go. _Now_!”

Chan sighs as he lowers switches the iron off and rests it gently on the side of the ironing board. “But we need our uniforms tomorrow morning-”

“I’ll finish it.” Chan’s mother nudges him out of the way with her hip and picks the iron up. “Go do your homework.”

“Okay.” Chan starts trudging to his room. The truth is that he hates ironing clothes, but he’d do anything to get his mind off the final exams next week.

_At least we’re not playing at the finals next week…_ Chan tiptoes into his room, fumbling around in the dark for his backpack so he doesn’t wake his siblings up. He drags the backpack out of the room and closes the door gently.

Chan stares his Math book down for a good ten minutes before his dad passes by, asking, “How’re you doing in school, Chan?”

“I’m okay.” Chan grins at his dad as if he’s not hiding a letter from his Math teacher asking his parents to come to the school.

“I got an email from your Math teacher.”

_Damn it._ Chan’s grin falters. “Well, uh, actually, Dad, I already talked to all of them about it-”

“ _All of them_?”

_Crap._ Chan chuckles nervously. “Uh… Well, Dad, you see… it’s like this…”

“What are you two doing?” Chan’s mom frowns at them both as she walks in carrying Chan and his siblings’ school uniforms. She flicks her husband with one free finger. “Stop distracting him, he needs to study.”

Chan’s dad narrows his eyes at Chan’s mom. “Did you also get the email from the Math teacher?”

Sweat dribbles down the margin of Chan’s face.

“ _Email_?” Chan’s mom scoffs. “I went to see his Math teacher already. And his History teacher. And his Economics-”

“When?” Chan blurts out.

“When they called me to the school, Chan, when do you think?”

“Why didn’t you tell _me_?” Chan’s dad pouts.

“I did, but you weren’t listening, were you?” Chan’s mom shuffles past her husband and son, carrying the school uniforms to their bedroom. “Now let Chan go back to studying so he can pull his grades up.”

“Well,” Chan’s dad puts on a stern look. “We’re not done talking about this, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Chan.” Chan’s dad says. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t. ‘Night, Dad.”

When the bedroom door closes behind his dad, Chan buries his face in his Math book and lets out a long, low groan.

 

Woojin throws his phone onto the carpet.

_“I’ll call you”???? Who the fuck are you kidding, Kim Woojin??? When will you_ ever _have the guts to call Chan up first????_

His inner monologue is interrupted by a loud buzzing noise.

Woojin screams and falls off his bed.

He crawls over and picks up his phone.

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

“Hello?” Woojin answers his phone timidly.

“Oh, good, you’re still awake.” Chan heaves a sigh of relief from the other end.

Woojin sits up, frowning. “Yeah, I am. Is something wrong?”

Woojin waits for Chan to reply, but it takes a while. Woojin listens to the choppy breathing on Chan’s end and the rustle of static.

“Chan?” Woojin asks after some time. “Are you okay?”

“Y- Yeah, I’m just… it’s one of those nights.” Chan sighs.

Woojin draws his knees to his chin. He doesn’t know what to say. “ _Don’t be sad”? No, it sounds like I’m ordering him around. “It’ll pass”? No, that’s not being helpful._

_What the fuck am I supposed to say to him?_

“Never mind, sorry for bothering you.” Chan says suddenly. “You’re probably really busy-”

“I’m not.” Woojin admits. _I’ve wasted the past half hour wondering how to call you. I’m nowhere_ near _busy_.

“Oh.” Chan laughs. “Still sorry, I guess.”

“Don’t be.” Woojin feels his palms getting sweaty as he grips his phone. He doesn’t know how to get people to talk like Chan does. _What do I do when Chan’s the one who needs help?_ “What’s up?”

“I’m…” Chan starts laughing, the kind of dry, self-deprecating laugh Woojin knows he does when he has to deal with his dad. “You know, the usual.”

Woojin twists the hem of his pajamas between two fingers. “Is there anything I can do?”

“If only you could take my Math test for me.” Chan says.

“I would,” Woojin says. “But there’s no way in hell that I’ll ever pass for _you_.”

Chan laughs genuinely this time, and it makes Woojin’s chest feel warm. “No, no way, I’m not _that_ hot.”

Woojin rolls his eyes even though he knows Chan can’t see it. “Could you quit that?”

“Telling you you’re hot?” Chan asks. “Yeah, you must be tired of it.”

“Actually,” Woojin grimaces. “You’re the only one who does it.”

“Really?” Chan makes a sound that’s like a cross between a scoff and a gasp. “What’s _wrong_ with people? You’re the hottest person ever-”

“Don’t you have a Math test tomorrow?” Woojin asks, getting embarrassed in front of… no one at all.

“Yeah, I’ve got to get back to studying.” Chan says. “Sorry again for bothering you.”

“Don’t be.” Woojin says firmly. “Do you need any help with Math?”

“Thanks, but I don’t really learn that well when people just say things to me,” Chan says. “I don’t really learn that well _at all_ , actually. I guess it’s called being stupid-”

“You’re not stupid.”

Chan sighs. “You’re the only person who says that, you know?”

“Like you said.” Woojin says. “There’s something seriously wrong with everyone else.”

“Thanks.”

Woojin makes a face. He doesn’t know if he’s getting sleepy, but _where did that come from?_

“What?” Woojin asks, before catching himself and saying, “I mean, what for?”

“I don’t know, for picking up my call?” Chan laughs again. “I guess I just needed to hear your voice.”

“You should get back to studying.” Woojin says, his face burning.

“Yeah.” Chan says. “I’ll see you around, then?”

Woojin desperately wants to put a date and time on that, to have something definite to look forward for a change, but he figures that he’s better off not bothering Chan when Chan’s got so many problems. “See you. Good luck on your exam.”

“Thanks. I’ll really need it.”

Woojin places his phone facedown on his bedside table and climbs into bed. It doesn’t feel right, that Woojin’s pretty much coasting through his last year of high school while Chan’s trying to scrape together a passing grade. _Chan does a million more things than I do. He does so much for other people, meanwhile I…_

_Why doesn’t school reward good people?_

“Cap? You okay, man?”

Chan blinks. He’s been pushing his food around on his plate for a while now, and he hadn’t realized that Jisung and Changbin were standing across the table from him. “Oh, hey guys.”

“You okay?” Jisung asks again.

“Yeah,” Chan shrugs. “Sorry I’m kind of out of it, I just got out of a Math test.”

“Oh shit.” Jisung and Changbin give him sympathetic grimaces.

“It’s cool, whatever,” Chan shrugs harder, like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “What’s up?”

Changbin takes a breath. “Well-”

Felix skitters out of nowhere and skids to a halt at Chan’s table, slamming his hands on the plastic surface. “Have you guys _heard_?”

“Heard what?” Chan feels lost, like he’d been asleep for around ten years.

“Finals are canceled!” Felix squawks.

Chan grins from ear to ear. _Final exams??? CANCELED???_

“No, dumbass, they’re not canceled,” Jisung flicks Felix on the arm. “They’re just postponed.”

“Don’t be such a bitch, we don’t even know for sure.” Changbin says, punching Jisung on the arm.

“That was uncalled for, man.” Jisung winces and shrinks away.

“Wait…” Chan holds his hands up to stop his teammates from going at each other in the middle of the cafeteria. “They’re postponing the final exams???”

Chan’s grin falters when he sees Jisung, Changbin, and Felix’s expressions, which seem to be saying, _Are you being fucking serious right now?_

“Jesus…” Jisung groans, looking heavenward.

“Cap… no.” Changbin makes a face.

“It’s the finals for… baseball, Cap.” Felix says gently. “Not school.”

“Oh.” Chan’s entire face goes cherry red. “My bad.”

 

“Hey there Cap,” Minho slides onto the table bench next to Jeongin, who takes a disgruntled bite from a weirdly crunchy egg salad sandwich.

“What do you want, Minho?” Woojin slides a plastic container across the table to Jeongin, who gives him a solemn bow before digging into Woojin’s food.

Minho plucks a slice of beef out of Woojin’s lunch box, earning a death glare from Jeongin. “I figured no one else would tell you, so I’m gonna-”

“Just spit it out, Minho.”

“Fine.” Minho crosses his legs calmly. “The finals have been postponed.”

Jeongin sputters rice all over the table, but Woojin’s eyebrows just go up a tiny bit. “Really?”

Minho groans internally. _What do I have to do to_ shock _this guy?_

“Yes, really.” Minho says. “It’s pretty fucking weird of the federation and I’ve never heard of something like this happening before so...”

“It shouldn’t affect us. We train on as usual.” Woojin shrugs.

“Still, aren’t you curious?” Minho plucks another piece of beef from under Jeongin’s nose.

“No.” Woojin says flatly.

“Not even a little bit?” Jeongin scoots the food away from Minho. “It’s super weird, hyung.”

“I agree with the kid.” Minho tries to reach for more beef anyway. He stops and frowns at Jeongin. “Since when did you call Cap _hyung_?”

“Oh, uh,” Jeongin’s face flushes as he looks to their captain for help.

“Jeongin’s my first cousin.” Woojin says.

Minho stops in mid-grab, his fingers dangling over the beef. _Are they joking? Cause it’s not funny at all.._ He looks from Woojin, who lifts his eyebrows innocently, to Jeongin, who’s using his tongue to try and get a grain of rice on his cheek, equally innocently.

“Are you… serious?” Minho asks finally.

“Yeah.” They both reply.

“Is it a secret? Like I’m not allowed to tell anyone?” Minho feels the space between his eyebrows wrinkling from the strain of trying to figure out _why the hell I, Lee Minho, didn’t know about this???_

“No, not really.” Woojin shrugs. “We just didn’t know before.”

Before Minho can even _start_ unpacking what the hell their captain could mean by that, his phone starts buzzing in his butt pocket.

_Only one person would be calling me at this time._

_Well, my mom and one other person, but my mom’s got no reason to be pissed at me today._

Minho pulls his phone out and checks the caller id: ❤🍆😍🤪❤

_Well, that’s_ not _my mom._

“I’ll see you guys later.” Minho says, getting up. He makes one last grab for the beef, but Jeongin yelps and snatches the container out of Minho’s reach.

“Oh come _on_ ,” Jeongin whines. “You’ve already had so much!”

“Let the kid eat.” Woojin grumbles at Minho.

“Okay.” Minho gives them what he believes is a sweet smile before grabbing a handful of beef and running off.

“MINHOOO!”

 

Minho folds a chewing gum wrapper as he walks down the hallway, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he murmurs, “Hey babe, what’s up?”

“I think I’m hyperventilating.”

“Sweetheart, if you were hyperventilating, you wouldn’t have been able to say that entire word in one go,” Minho rolls his eyes as he pushes one of the doors to the fire escape open. He slips the folded gum wrapper into the latch to keep the door from closing on him. He lets the phone slide down from his shoulder into his waiting hand. “Jisung?”

Jisung’s breaths on the other end sound almost… _hyperventilate-y_.

“Jisung? Babe?” Minho holds the phone closer to his ear. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m just eating.” Jisung says.

_Asshole._ Minho smiles. “Whatcha eating?”

“Uncooked instant noodles.”

“ _Jisung_ for fuck’s sake, they’re already _instant_.” Minho scowls. “Cook that shit before you eat it.”

“I’m stress eating. I don’t got time to cook.”

Minho sighs as he settles to sit on the fire escape. “What’s wrong?”

“Some stuff seems to happening with the federation and we’re next in the rankings after NC Tech and if something happens to them then we- _Oh my god_ _we could be going to the finals._ ”

 “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I’m freaking out, babe.”

“In a good way?”

“Is there a _good_ kind of freaking out?!” Jisung’s voice cracks on the other end.

Minho desperately wants to climb into his phone and out of Jisung’s to slap his boyfriend in the face then give him a hug. “Honestly, I-”

The fire exit door flies open.

Minho stands up, frowning at the school’s discipline officer in the doorway. “Uh, good mor- afternoon, sir.”

“Minho?” Jisung’s voice breaks the silence that follows.

“Let’s discuss this in my office, Mr. Lee.” The discipline officer says, holding the door open for Minho.

“Babe? Are you there?”

Minho hangs up on Jisung and pockets his phone, giving the discipline officer a dry grin. “Lead the way, sir.”

 

Jisung frowns at his phone. He frowns, crumbs of uncooked noodles falling from his mouth.

“Minho?” He asks again, but the call’s already been dropped.

Jisung brow furrows. Minho’s probably just pissed at him again… _but_ why _? What have I done now?_

He frowns at his phone while he finishes another back of uncooked instant noodles. He’s rummaging through his locker for some more when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket again. Jisung groans. _It’s probably Auntie asking me to cover a shift later after school…_

The caller id reads, 🍆🥒😋🤤😍😘🌶💓

Jisung picks up and says, “Hello?” in a single heartbeat.

“Hey babe sorry.” Minho’s voice is hushed and out of breath.

Jisung crunches throughfully on noodle bits. “What happened?”

“Stupid fucking co-principal – what the fuck is a co-principal anyway??? Either you’re a whole-ass principal or you’re not.” Minho huffs. “Anyway, sorry for hanging up on you, it’s just the stupid fucking co-principal- Hang on I’m getting into a taxi.”

“Taxi?”

“Fuck this shit, I’m treating myself to some good shit, you can’t judge me, I can totally afford to do this shit-”

“Wait.” Jisung is confused out of his damn mind. “Where are you going, Minho?”

“Where do you think? I’m going to bum it out at the café until you arrive.”

“But…” Jisung checks his watch. “It’s only lunchtime?”

Minho’s voice is distant, like he’s moved the phone away from his mouth while he gives the taxi driver directions. Then his voice comes back, talking softly into the phone so it tickles Jisung’s ear. “What were you saying, babe?”

“Why’re you skipping school?”

Minho laughs for a moment. “I got suspended.”

“What? _Why_?” Jisung squeaks, nearly dropping his phone. A few people walking past give him weird looks, but Jisung’s beyond caring. “What happened?”

“The stupid fucking co-principal busted me for _smoking_.”

Part of Jisung had been prepared to say something defensive, like, _He’s a fucking idiot_ or, _That makes no fucking sense,_ but another part of him just really, _really_ hates cigarettes.

_More than I love Minho?_

Jisung’s breaths are starting to get shorter and shorter. He steps into an empty classroom to try to calm himself down, but he just ends up choking out, “I thought you quit.”

“Jisung, honestly-”

“You said you’d quit!”

“Yeah, and I _did_.” Minho scoffs. “You _seriously_ believe I’d start that up again? You really think I’d just start-”

“I don’t know!” Jisung throws his free hand up in frustration. “You suddenly say shit about getting suspended for smoking-”

“-Because of the _co-principal_ , who’s really got it out for me because I made out with his son-”

“You did _what_?” Jisung’s hand holding the phone is shaking. “ _When_?!”

“A while back, Jisung, calm your fucking tits,” Minho grumbles. “And you don’t get to give me that possessive crap just because we’re dating-”

“ _Dating_? We’ve never even been on a date! You’re always just showing up at my place for sex-”

“And what? Your dick _magically_ slips out of your pants and-”

“Shut up!” Jisung kicks the nearest wall, but it turns out to be made of really thin plywood, and his sneaker punches through. “Ow _, fuuuuuck_.”

“Jisung?” Minho’s voice is quiet again. “Babe?”

“Wait, my foot’s stuck in the wall,” Jisung gives his leg a strong tug, but it doesn’t budge.

“Your _what_ is stuck in the _what_?”

“Hold on, Minho, I just need to…” Jisung tries to wiggle his shoe out, but his foot’s just wiggling inside the shoe, which seems to be a permanent fixture in the wall. “Shit.”

“Are you okay? Did you get any splinters?”

“No, no, I’m fine, I just can’t take my foot-” Jisung wiggles his foot harder, then leans back and gives it a strong tug. “-OUT!”

Jisung’s foot comes free of the shoe, which stays embedded in the wall as Jisung crashes into the nearest chair.

“Babe? Are you okay? What was that noise?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Jisung sighs at the scruffy sneaker half-stuck in the wall. “My shoe’s stuck in the wall.”

“You _what_ is stuck in the _what_?” Minho asks again, but this time he’s snickering.

“I kicked the wall, okay?” Jisung squats to try to pull his sneaker out, but even when he tucks his phone between his shoulder and his cheek and he gives the shoe a strong pull with both hands, it stays punched into the wall. “Why doesn’t _this_ happen in dramas?”

“What did I tell you about being overdramatic?” Minho snorts.

“Fuck you.” Jisung grumbles, giving up on his sneaker and walking out of the classroom, one foot just in a grey sock.

“Fuck you, too,” Minho says sweetly. “Go have your shoe excavated or whatever. See you later, babe.”

“See you.” Jisung hesitates for a moment and adds, “I love you.” but the line’s already dead.

 

Chan puts the phone to his ear. “Hello, Miracle Flower Shop, how may I help you?”

“ _Chan_?” Woojin laughs on the other end.

Chan’s entire face reddens, though there’s no one else I the shop but the flowers to see it. _Oh crap this is my_ personal _phone… dumbass._ “Hi Woojin.”

“Hi.” Woojin snickers. “I’m guessing you’re at the flower shop?”

“Yeah, why?”

“When does your shift end?”

“In twenty minutes.”

“Ok.”

Chan picks up a stray leaf off the counter and starts playing with it absentmindedly. “Why do you ask?”

“I, um, I was just thinking, since I…”

Chan smiles sadly at the crumpled leaf in his free hand. “Sorry, Woojin, I’m kind of busy later. I have tons of Math stuff to catch up on.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I called.” Woojin clears his throat on the other end, and it makes Chan smile again. “I was wondering if you wanted my help with Math?”

“Wondering? Sounds like you’ve already made plans.” Chan says.

“I always make plans, Chan, don’t take it personally.” Woojin says. “I can come and pick you up along with the order I placed for my mom, then we can stay here in the library.”

Chan thinks about his parents, who are expecting him home right after this shift. There’s laundry to be done, and his mom’s been having trouble getting his middle sister to go to bed on time. “Sorry, Woojin, but I don’t think my parents will be cool with this.”

“Are you grounded?”

Chan frowns. “Am I _what_?”

Woojin snorts. “Never mind. I’ll see you in twenty minutes?”

Chan opens his mouth to protest, but the words never make it out. _I_ could _use the help in Math – No, I desperately need it._

_And I_ could _use some time alone with Woojin…_

“Ok.” Chan says finally.

“Ok.” Woojin says, hanging up before Chan can even say goodbye. _Like normal people do._

 

Jisung pushes the door of the café open to find Minho flirting with his aunt. _It’s not me being insecure or anything. He’s literally almost climbing the countertop._

Jisung’s aunt is behind the counter, holding a cup under the espresso machine while Minho’s leaning on on the counter, actually, but so far over that only the tips of his toes are on the ground. He’s giving Jisung’s aunt that wide grin, the one that got Jisung into this whole mess – _I mean, relationship –_ in the first place.

Jisung’s aunt looks unfazed. She tilts the cup and pours some cream gently into it, wiggling the pitcher around to draw hearts in the latte. “There.”

Minho cranes his neck and judges the cup, his face less than a foot away from Jisung’s aunt’s. “That’s it? I can definitely do _that_.”

Jisung’s aunt scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, sure. You’re on.” Minho vaults over the counter with one hand.

Jisung decides it’s time to stop whatever the hell is going on right now. He stomps over and calls out, “Minho, what the fuck are you doing?”

Minho gives Jisung a heavy wink. “Getting acquainted with the family business.”

“Minho wants a part-time job here.” Jisung’s aunt shrugs. “I told him he probably couldn’t pull it off.”

“Well, even if he can,” Jisung makes a face at Minho. “You don’t _need_ a part-time job.”

“What if I want one?” Minho lifts his eyebrows.

“He’s here _all_ the time anyway.” Jisung’s uncle says, coming out from the kitchen with a tray of cookies.

“And we could use the help, since _someone_ never pulls his weight.” Jisung’s aunt says pointedly at her nephew.

Minho shrugs one shoulder. “We could work _together_ , even.”

Jisung’s mind paints an image of Minho in an apron. _Am I into that? Yeah, I’m into that. Wait, no, what the hell? I’m NOT into this._

“Can I talk to you upstairs, Minho?” Jisung says, pointing at the ceiling.

Minho’s eyes light up. “Sure.”

 

Chan felt pretty awkward sitting in the back of Woojin’s giant car, with enough space for two grown men between them. He doesn’t understand why Woojin uses such a big car when he’s just one Woojin, or why people even _make_ cars this big that aren’t for public transport.

Then Woojin sneaks him into the house through the back door. Now Chan’s been inside Woojin’s house. Chan’s entire apartment probably fits into that place near the front of the house with the couches and crystal sculptures and stuff, so Chan’s got a pretty good idea of how ridiculously Woojin lives. Still, when Woojin says “We’ll have to pass by the back door through the kitchen,” Chan’s expecting a _kitchen_ kitchen. _You know, a sink, a stove, maybe a refrigerator?_

Chan’s not expecting to be dragged by the hand through this huge, brightly lit _series of rooms_ with all these metal shelves and so many stoves and _three entire fucking refrigerators!!!_

“What’s in there?” Chan gapes as Woojin pulls him past the refrigerators.

“Uh, food?” Woojin makes a face at Chan before moving on.

Chan’s heart races at the idea of _three refrigerators_ full of food.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Woojin tugs Chan into a little dark alcove, covering Chan’s mouth with one hand. _Which is totally unnecessary_. _I know when to shut up._

Chan’s eyes bug out when he sees the head of the national high school baseball federation walk by, telling Woojin’s dad about his new pet peacock.

He turns to Woojin, whose hand is still clamped over Chan’s mouth.

‘My dad’s trying to-’ Woojin mouths, before rolling his eyes. ‘-Bribe him.’

Chan nods slowly, but it’s just for Woojin’s sake. He will never, ever understand rich people.

When Woojin’s dad and the head of the federation leave through the front door, Woojin takes Chan’s hand again – Chan _loves_ that – and pulls him through a bunch of marble-floored hallways and through a set of heavy oak doors.

 

Woojin turns to find Chan’s mouth hanging open as he waddles around the library in circles. He doesn’t like bringing people to his house because they _always_ do this, aside from a very, very few exceptions like Jihyo. Even when they’re out of Woojin’s house, Woojin can see the way they look at him, like they’re looking through him and seeing his house in all its gaudy fake European style.

“Chan.” Woojin says finally, when he feels like half an hour’s been wasted.

“Oh. Sorry. This place looks like Harry Potter. So cool.” Chan turns to him with an apologetic smile, but when he looks at Woojin, it’s different. _I mean, nothing’s changed._

Which warms Woojin’s heart.

Woojin clears his throat, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels warm. He pulls a chair back pats a stack of books he’d left on the table. “I have some of my old textbooks from last year.”

Chan laughs. “But we’re the _same_ year, Woojin.”

“No, I uh,” Woojin’s wondering how to say it without sounding like an arrogant prick. “I’m in an advanced math class, so I took up last year what you’re taking up now.”

Chan’s smile is genuine as he pulls out the chair next to Woojin’s. “I picked the best math tutor, then.”

If Woojin hadn’t already been sitting down, his knees would hav gone weak. _There’s got to be a catch. There’s got to be some huge, glaring problem with Chan that I’m not seeing. There’s no way he’s real._

Woojin shakes his head, like he’s trying to ward off dumb thoughts about Chan. _You brought him to your house, though. You brought this upon yourself._

“Anyway, which topics do you think you need the most help in?” Woojin asks, trying to keep as straight a face as he can muster.

Chan’s smile is a little goofy, it’s a little apologetic, but above everything it’s blindingly sweet as he says, “ _Everything_.”

Woojin sighs as he flips the first textbook open to the table of contents. _It’s going to be a loooong evening._

Jisung locks the door to his room behind him, then leans his forehead on the plastic-coated plywood. “Seriously, Minho-” He turns to find Minho already pretty much naked. “Dude. Come on.”

“What?” Minho slips his fingers back out of the waistband of his underwear. “Aren’t we gonna… “ _talk”_?” He puts double quotes with two finger bunnies.

“No, Minho, when I said “talk” I meant _talk_ as in converse. With each other. Like humans.” Jisung plucks Minho’s discarded jeans and sweater off the floor and tosses them to his boyfriend. “With our clothes on.”

Minho slumps into Jisung’s computer chair, still carrying his clothes. “Well? Talk.”

“ _With our clothes on_.” Jisung says, more forcefully this time.

Minho groans and pulls his sweater on. “There. Happy?”

“I’ll take what I can get.” Jisung sighs, flopping onto a pile of clothes on the floor. It’s kind of like having a bean bag, but low-budget and eco-friendly.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?” Minho asks, crossing his legs.

“Look, I’m going to say this as nicely as I can,” Jisung sighs. “But please stay away from Auntie Sana.”

“Awww, Jichungie,” Minho says, baby-talking through a pout. “Is thumbody _jeawwous_?”

“I’m serious.” Jisung says. “She and my uncle can’t know we’re dating.”

“They’d have to be real fucking stupid to not have figured that out by now.” Minho snorts.

“They’re going to tell everyone. My mom and dad. My grandma.” Jisung shudders. “Minho, my grandma can’t know I’m gay. I would _die_.”

Minho crosses his arms. “If they can’t love you when they find out you’re gay, then they never really did, Jisung.”

“Don’t get all wise with me, you haven’t told your parents either.”

“Because they don’t care, genius.” Minho laughs in a painfully self-deprecating manner. “My sister’s always making HIV jokes-”

“That’s not something to joke about.” Jisung sits up indignantly.

“She’s an asshole, Jisung. Haven’t we established this?” Minho says, pointing at the scar on his chin from the time his sister stabbed him with a mechanical pencil.

Jisung finds himself thumbing over Minho’s chin. _Wait a second. When did I get here? Why am I sitting in his lap?_

Jisung sighs, feeling his breath bounce off Minho’s cheek back at him. “Can we just go back to not being, you know, _official_?”

Minho puts his arms around Jisung’s waist. “I like being official.”

Jisung takes a deep breath. _I knew that._

“I like people knowing that you’re my boyfriend,” Minho nuzzles his cheek against Jisung’s. “I know it’s really shallow, but I just like telling people I am dating _the_ Han Jisung-”

“I’ve noticed.” Jisung says before he can catch himself.

Luckily, Minho laughs it off. Jisung’s shoulders sag from relief.

“I’m sorry, Minho,” Jisung rests his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “I just can’t be like _that_ right now.”

Jisung braces himself for whatever Minho’s going to say to that. He’s got a few ideas, but no scenario in his head turns out well for him. Just as his mind’s playing out a scene where Minho starts dragging Jisung by the hair, Minho sits up suddenly.

“Minho?”

“What’s this?” Minho shifts Jisung over on his lap to reach for something on Jisung’s desk.

“What’s what?” Jisung twists around almost 180 degrees to see what Minho’s tearing up. “Babe! Leave my stuff alone!”

Jisung scrambles out of Minho’s embrace to find the latter flipping open a letter with a bright orange letterhead. “Oh, don’t mind that-”

Minho’s grin is borderline Cheshire Cat when he looks up at Jisung again. “NC Tech invited you to transfer there? _Jesus_ -”

“I’m not going.” Jisung says firmly.

“I was gonna say it’s hot, but sure, yeah, I knew that.” Minho kisses Jisung on the cheek. “The fucking _nerve_ on these assholes though. You’d think they’d have the sense to leave you the fuck alone after robbing you guys of the finals.”

“There’s no way we’d have made it to the finals.” Jisung chortles.

“Jisung. Babe.” Minho rolls his eyes. “You’d have been second if these assholes hadn’t cheated their way there.”

Jisung has to take a moment – it’s kind of a long moment – to stare at Minho with his mouth slightly agape. Then, for the second time that day, realization dawns on him like a bucket of cold water over his head. “Holy shit… we _would’ve…_ ”

Then he starts hyperventilating.

 

“Where did it go?”

Woojin’s hand goes up to rub his temples, but he catches Chan looking expectantly at him, so he lowers his hand again. “Which one, Chan?”

“Where did the _n_ go???” Chan shakes the paper in front of him, like he’s trying to wring an answer out of it.

Woojin sighs and picks up his pencil. “It went to the other side.”

Woojin goes back to the start and divides both sides by n, then crosses the n out and encircles the one on the other side of the equation. He can see, out of the corner of his eye, Chan watching Woojin’s hand with his mouth slightly agape. _He looks like a kid watching a birthday party magician, for fuck’s sake._

Normally, Woojin would be at the end of his patience after two hours of struggling to teach eighth-grade algebra to a high school senior, but for some reason, he isn’t _that_ tired yet. For some reason, he hasn’t thrown a textbook out the window or stormed out of the room.

_You know the reason, you dumb bitch._

“Okay, so moving things to the other side of the equal sign is just division?” Chan asks slowly. “Even with variables?”

“Unless it’s multiplication.” Woojin says. “Or addition. Or subtraction.”

Chan’s grimace stretches from one side of his face to the other. “What.”

Woojin sighs and looks up at the gilded ceiling. _This place is really so tacky…_

“I’m sorry.” Chan says quietly.

Woojin frowns at him. “For what?”

“For being dumb.”

Woojin wants to throttle him, and at the same time, he wants to put his arms around him. He lowers the pencil and fixes Chan with a stern look. “You’re not dumb.”

“Woojin, can you honestly say that with a straight face when we’ve both been here for hours and I still don’t know anything?”

Woojin’s really one hair’s breadth away from violence or unbridled affection _._  He takes a deep breath, for Chan’s sake. “Chan, did your parents sign you up for after-school tutoring when you were in kindergarten?”

Chan scrunches up his nose. “ _Kindergarten_?”

“Yes. Kindergarten. I was probably six when we started on long division.” Woojin says.

“ _Long division?_ What the hell? People do that?” Chan looks seriously offended. Woojin resists the urge to laugh.

“Yeah. I’ve been going to tutors since I was six.” Woojin stops a chuckle in its tracks. _Come on, be kind to Chan._ “That’s like 66, no, 67% of my life so far?”

Chan’s mouth falls open.

“I know, it’s really… crappy.” Woojin shudders.

“No, what the hell, _you calculated that so fast._ ” Chan gapes. “Without paper!”

Woojin gives up. He laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach. Woojin slides off his chair and knocks his elbow on the table – “Ouch fuck” – then continues laughing on the floor.

“Woojin?” Chan asks, one hand on Woojin’s shoulder in mild concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for asking.” Woojin sucks in a long breath. _Without paper!_

Chan extends a hand and helps Woojin back up onto his chair. “I think we should call it a day.”

“Huh?” Woojin asks as he brushes his palm off on his pants. _How come Chan’s hands are so sweaty? And did he just say what I think he said?_

“It’s dinnertime.”

“Oh.” Woojin looks up at the grandfather clock. “But you still have ten numbers left in your homewo-”

“I can finish them at home.” Chan starts folding – no, _crumpling_ everything up and shoving them into his backpack. Whatever the word is for what’s he’s doing, it’s giving Woojin mild anxiety.

“Wait, but…” Woojin can’t think of any more excuses to keep Chan around. _Is this what this was, Woojin? An excuse to keep Chan around?_ “How are you getting home? There are no taxis here-”

“I can walk to the bus stop. Thank you so much, Woojin.” Chan grips Woojin’s arm, which is a kind gesture, if not a bit too _heterosexual_ for Woojin’s sanity.

Woojin, in a burst of mental fatigue, lifts a finger to tap his left cheek.

Chan laughs, but he leans in and leaves a peck just above Woojin’s finger.

Woojin turns his head very, very slowly to face Chan, whose face looks tired but calm. _Did that just happen?_

_It’s not like you haven’t kissed him_ before _, you idiot._

“I can give you a ride home.” Woojin gasps out, like one kiss on the cheek’s knocked all the breath out of him.

“Thanks, but I can’t accept that,” Chan says. “You’ve already done way, way more than enough for me. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay…”

He trails off, because Woojin’s finger is tapping his lower lip.

_WOojin!_ Woojin screams internally. _WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THERE IS A CCTV CAMERA IN THE CORNER OF THE LIBRARY! THE SECURITY TEAM IS GONNA SEE THIS! YOU_ CANNOT _BE CAUGHT-_

Chan cups his hands around Woojin’s cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss. _With tongue._

_What am I supposed to do? Say no?_ Woojin thinks, opening one eye just for a quick glance at the security camera’s steady red light in the corner, before shutting his eyes again and leaning into the kiss.

Woojin feels his back knock into the nearest bookshelf, but he doesn’t really care as he threads his fingers into Chan’s too-long hair. Chan’s mouth is so warm, and it’s all over Woojin’s mouth and he can’t breathe, but it’s a good kind of can’t breathe. A “ _perhaps this isn’t such a bad way to die”_ kind.

“Woojin,” Chan whispers softly when they break apart for air.

“Uh-huh?” Woojin’s eyes are trained on Chan’s lips. _Who gave them the right to look like that? Who the hell-_

“Nothing, I just wanted to say that, uh,” Chan’s lips curl up into a self-conscous smile. “I wanted to say that I-”

The library door flies open, banging against the wall.

“What’s going on here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate meeee


	41. “I don’t care about dating.” – Park Jinyoung (Junior)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “May I take uh, maybe half an hour off to pick my brother up from training?”
> 
> “How old is your brother again?”
> 
> “16.”
> 
> “Can’t he just take the bus? 16 years old is definitely old enough to take the bus.”
> 
> “Yes, of couse, sir,” Jinyoung says, leaving out the fact that he treats his brother (and Jisung, by extension) out to ice cream on Fridays.
> 
> One of Jinyoung’s older coworkers leans into the doorway. “Hey bossman, I’m just gonna bring my daughter to a party. Friday night, you know how it is, heh.”
> 
> “Sure.” Their boss says with a dismissive smile and wave of his hand. 
> 
> Jinyoung frowns, watching his coworker go. “How old is his daughter?”
> 
> Their boss looks up thoughtfully for a moment. “Probably your age.”
> 
> Jinyoung resists the urge to kick the nearest trashcan over. “She can’t take the bus?”
> 
> “She’s a girl, Jinyoung.” Their boss makes a face. “Your brother’s a boy. He needs to toughen up a little.”

Woojin and Chan shove each other away, stumbling gracelessly into the nearest furniture.

“N- Nothing.” Woojin says, rubbing the back of his head where it had knocked into the bookshelf.

“Woojin.” The head of housekeeping casts one exhausted glance out at the hallway before closing the door to the library behind him. “You’re being called to dinner.”

“Okay.” Woojin looks down at his feet.

“I think I should go now.” Chan says, reaching for his backpack. “Bye, Woo-”

 “Mr. Lee?” Woojin looks up, utterly confused to find the head of housekeeping dragging Chan out of the room by the collar of his jacket. He’s never seen the head of housekeeping treat anyone like that, not even the staff who’ve fucked something up. It takes him a moment to come to his senses and run after them.

“Mr. Lee!” Woojin breaks through the crowd of busy kitchen staff, apologizing profusely. He finds the head of housekeeping bringing Chan to the back gate. Chan, being Chan, isn’t trying to defend himself.

“You can never come back here.” The head of housekeeping says, pulling Chan down the stairs. “Do you understand?”

“Y- Yes, sir.”

Woojin skids to a stop between them and the back gate. “Mr. Lee, let him go.”

The head of housekeeping promptly drops Chan’s collar, letting Chan stumble into the nearest wall. “Your parents will be angry if you don’t show up for dinner soon, Woojin.”

“I know.” Woojin says. “But you should apologize to Chan.”

The head of housekeeping casts a sidelong glance at Chan. “ _I_ should apologize?”

“I’m sorry.” Chan says without even taking a breath.

“Chan, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Woojin says, frowning at the head of housekeeping. Mr. Lee must have some reason for behaving like this all of a sudden, but whatever it is, Woojin can’t figure it out. “Mr. Lee-”

“I don’t know what you were thinking, or if you were thinking at all,” Mr. Lee says tensely. “But _he_ can’t come back here anymore.”

“And why _not_?” Woojin asks, feeling the warmth flare up behind his temples. _Who gave him the right to talk about Chan that way? And look down at him like that?_ He takes a step towards the head of housekeeping, not entirely sure what he’s about to do, but then he feels a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay, Woojin. I get it.” Chan says softly, giving Woojin’s arm a light squeeze.

“No, Chan, it’s not like that-”

One of the security guards closes the gate behind Chan, whose footsteps echo in the empty street outside.

Woojin turns back to the head of housekeeping, who only says, “You should head up to the dining room before your parents get too angry.”

“Fuck them.”

 

Chan stops the the landing of the stairwell, not because he’s out of breath or anything. He leans his forehead against the chilly, grimy glass of the stairwell window and sighs.

He’s been thrown out of places before. That happens a lot when you’re friends with people like Changbin and Jisung.

But he’s never been dragged out of a house and thrown out like _garbage_. _And the way that guy looked at me…_ Chan’s shoulders sag. _All of Woojin’s other friends probably look like Woojin – super clean-cut and fancy and stuff. I haven’t had a haircut in months…_

Chan had had the entire bus ride to figure out what had happened next. _Mr. Lee, whoever he was, probably told Woojin’s parents about them. And Woojin’s parents were probably pissed off as hell_. And Chan doesn’t even want to think about what happened to Woojin.

_It’s your fault for being so selfish. You could’ve just done your Math homework on your own._

“Chan?”

Chan looks up to find his dad trotting down the stairwell, wearing a down jacket over his shirt and boxers. He suppresses a smile. Then he thinks of what Mr. Lee – whoever he is, seriously – would’ve thought of his dad, and his smile vanishes completely.

“Oh, hi dad.”

“Goodness’ sake, Chan, do you know what time it is?” Chan’s dad slaps an arm around Chan’s shoulders. “Your mother was going to call the police.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Chan says, leaning into his dad’s soft jacket.

The door to their apartment swings open, shedding light into the dim hallway. Chan’s mother stands in the doorway in her nightgown, hands on her hips. “Bang Chan! Where have you _been_?”

“I was studying with a friend.” Chan says. _It’s not a lie._ Chan thinks of Woojin running his fingers through Chan’s hair, and Chan’s ears turn red.

“Well, warn us next time.” Chan’s mother groans. “Do you want soup?”

Chan gives her a weak smile as he and his father step into the apartment. “Yes please, thank you.”

 

Woojin nudges his plate gently away from him. “May I be excused?”

“Why?” His mother dabs at the corner of her lips with her table napkin.

“I have a lot of homework.” Woojin says blankly.

He doesn’t know whether she realizes he’s lying or not, or if she even cares, but she says, “Finish your _au gratin_ before you go.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Woojin starts scooping the potatoes and cream into his mouth without much grace, but his mother’s too busy trying to get his father’s attention to mind his manners.

“Chairman-dear.” Woojin’s mom says for the third time, raising her voice a little bit.

“What?” Woojin’s father is still frowning at his phone while his _au gratin_ goes cold. “There’s no need to shout, this is a small room.”

Woojin’s mother smiles pleasantly on, unfettered. “How was golf with Mr. Gong today?”

“Not so bad.” Woojin’s father grunts. “He was never really good at anything but baseball anyway.”

“Excuse me.” Woojin says quietly, pushing his chair back and laying is napkin on the table.

“Where are you going?” His father grunts, still looking at his phone.

“Homework.” Woojin says.

“He has lots of homework to do, dear.” Woojin’s mother explains. “Answer in complete sentences, Woojin-dear.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Woojin asks around, but no one seems to know where Mr. Lee is. The head of security eventually tells him that Mr. Lee’s gone home already for a “family emergency,” though Woojin seriously doubts that Mr. Lee even has a family to begin with.

He trudges back up to his room and tries calling Chan, but Chan’s phone can’t be reached.

 _Did he turn it off?_ Woojin flops onto the bed and heaves a sigh. _I’d be ignoring me, too, if I were him._

_Why didn’t I stop Mr. Lee? Or go after him? What’s wrong with me?_

Usually having a lot of starch at night makes Woojin sleepy, but he can just _see_ Chan’s dejected look in his mind and it keeps Woojin up until sunlight starts creeping in under his curtains.

 

“Mamaaaa!” Chan runs out of the room the next morning, when his alarm doesn’t wake him up. He’s buttoning his shirt up with one hand and dragging his backpack with the other.

“What is it?” Chan’s mom grumbles, trying to feed Chan’s youngest brother with one hand while tying Chan’s little sister’s hair with the other.

“Have you seen my charger?” Chan starts rifling through the mess on the kitchen counter. “My phone’s dead.”

“Just borrow one from someone at school.” His mom smirks when she manages to put half of Chan’s sister’s hair into a fairly acceptable pigtail. “You’re going to be late already.”

Chan glances at the clock on the wall.

“Oh sh- _nuts_.” Chan censors himself, catching his younger sister’s sharp glance. He grabs some bread and a yogurt from the fridge, kisses his mom on the cheek and all his younger siblings on the tops of their heads (whether they like it or not), then slips into his sneakers and runs out the door.

Jinyoung’s been having a rough couple of weeks. He’s had to stay overtime at work for five days out of five lately, because their current client’s just _that_ entitled.

Jinyoung knocks gently on the glass partition to his boss’s office.

He looks up from his laptop, which he’d been frowning at. His expression eases up when he sees Jinyoung hanging around the doorway. “Jinyoung! Come in. What’s going on?”

“May I take uh, maybe half an hour off to pick my brother up from training? I’ll be back as soon as I bring him home.”

“I-” His boss frowns. “How old is your brother again?”

“16.”

“Can’t he just take the bus?” His boss says. “16 years old is definitely old enough to take the bus.”

“Yes, of couse, sir,” Jinyoung says, leaving out the fact that he treats his brother (and Jisung, by extension) out to ice cream on Fridays.

One of Jinyoung’s older coworkers leans into the doorway. “Hey bossman, I’m just gonna bring my daughter to a party. Friday night, you know how it is, heh.”

“Sure.” Their boss says with a dismissive smile and wave of his hand.

Jinyoung frowns, watching his coworker go. “How old is _his_ daughter?”

Their boss looks up thoughtfully for a moment. “Probably your age.”

Jinyoung resists the urge to kick the nearest trashcan over. “ _She_ can’t take the bus?”

“She’s a _girl_ , Jinyoung.” Their boss makes a face. “Your brother’s a boy. He needs to toughen up a little.”

“Noted, sir.” Jinyoung says dryly, turning to go back to his cubicle.

Jinyoung picks up his phone and starts typing out a message to his brother.

_Hyung: I’ll be there in 15. Don’t make me wait._

 

“So, Coach,” Jisung says, leaning into the space between Jinyoung’s and Hyunjin’s seats in the car.

“I’m not your coach anymore.” Jinyoung says, wincing as he cuts a red light. _Well, it’s not like anyone else is on the road right now._

“Oh, right, sure.” Jisung nods. “So, anyway, how’s work?”

“Crappy.”

“Oh. Are you seeing anyone?”

Jinyoung nearly swerves onto the sidewalk. “ _What_?”

“You know, are you dating around?” Jisung asks, resting an elbow casually on the back of Jinyoung’s seat. “Or _sleeping_ around, if you’re not into serious-”

“I already told you, I _don’t_ care about dating.” Jinyoung says, and it pains him a little to add, “Or sleeping around.”

“Didn’t you go on a date with Seungmin’s sister last week?” Hyunjin offers unhelpfully.

“You did _what_?” Jisung squeaks from the backseat, leaning forward again.

“It wasn’t a date, I was just asking her something.” Jinyoung says defensively.

“Over coffee?” Hyunjin grins and dodges his brother’s fist. “Hey, hands on the wheel, hyung.”

“Look, if you really want to know,” Jinyoung says. “I asked for her help. I’ve filed a case with the federation.”

“ _What_?” Hyunjin’s eyes bug out.

“You _sued_ the federation?” Jisung asks, pretty much crawling onto the console at this point.

“Jisung, do I look like I can _afford_ to pull stunts like that?”

Jisung sinks back into his seat again. “Right.”

“So what _did_ you do, hyung?” Hyunjin asks.

“I filed a case, like I said. It’s pending, but if they’ve postponed the finals, they might actually be taking it seriously.” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Why? You don’t think they’d take you seriously?” Hyunjin asks.

“Why would they? I’m not anyone important.” Jinyoung says, pulling up to a brightly lit convenience store. “And everyone knows they only listen to money.”

“So why’d they postpone the finals?” Jisung asks as they step out of the car.

Jinyoung holds the door to the convenience store open. “Who knows?”

“What can we do?” Hyunjin asks.

“It’s still pending investigation, so if they find more evidence, then they’ll- Just for the kids, Gyeom, none for me,” Jinyoung tells the cashier, who rolls his eyes and puts the third cone he’s holding back into the container. Jinyoung hands a cone to his brother. “It’s up to them now.”

“What if we gave them more evidence?” Jisung asks.

Jinyoung can’t help but laugh, but he stops himself when he sees how dead serious the two of them are. “Where would we even _get_ evidence?”

“We go looking for it.” Hyunjin says matter-of-factly, before taking a long lick out of his ice cream.

Jinyoung frowns. He waches Jisung and Hyunjin lick their ice creams thoughtfully as they make their way back to the car.

The boys are weirdly quiet for them. They – Jisung especially – usually carry on even while they’re eating their ice creams. Jinyoung adjusts the rearview mirror and gives Jisung a hard look. “Nobody’s going to go _looking_ for evidence, okay?”

Hyunjin hums, licking his ice cream as he puts his seat belt on. Jisung only shrugs noncommittally.

“I need you two to promise me you will _not_ play Sherlock Holmes and investigate this shit, okay?” Jinyoung asks, the silence making him anxious. “Sherlock Holmes is a fucking genius and a legal adult. You guys are not. Don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

“Okay, hyung.”

“Sure thing, Coach.”

“I’m not your coach.” Jinyoung says, starting the car.


	42. “I’ll just put some pants on.” – Bang Chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is Woojin, Mama.”
> 
> “ _He’s_ Woojin,” His mom sounds weirdly relieved. “I’d thought you were talking about your other friend, the little one.”
> 
> Chan frowns. “Changbin?”
> 
> “Is that the loud one?”
> 
> Chan looks up at the ceiling, thinking for a moment. “I guess? But he’s not _that_ loud.”
> 
> “The one who talked your little sister into giving him 5 bucks.” Chan’s mother says. “The nerve.”
> 
> “Oh.” Chan grins and nods. “You’re talking about Jisung.”
> 
> “Jisung did _what_?” Woojin gasps. 
> 
> Chan waves a hand dismissively. “That was when he was a freshman. Long time ago.”
> 
> “Not long enough.” Chan’s mom clicks her tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: _Chan is Good Guy_

“Woojin, a word?” The head of housekeeping says as Woojin’s trudging back up the stairs after breakfast.

Woojin frowns. “What about?”

The head of housekeeping gives Woojin’s mother a gracious nod as she passes them on her way to her own room. “The laundry.” He says to Woojin.

Woojin’s frown deepens when the head of housekeeping closes the door to Woojin’s room behind them both.

“What about the laundry? Did more of my shirts go missing?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry.” The head of housekeeping looks down at his leather shoes in a strangely sheepish way. “I just wanted to apologize for the way I treated your friend yesterday.”

Woojin blinks at the head of housekeeping. In all his seventeen years, Mr. Lee’s never apologized to _him._ “Really?”

“Yes, it was downright rude and I’m sorry for that.” The head of housekeeping continues. “But you know _why_ I had to do it.”

It’s Woojin’s turn to look down at his house slippers, his ears heating up. “It would’ve been a disaster if anyone else had… _seen_.”

“I already lost one kid, Woojin, I won’t lose another.”

Woojin looks up. He’d never thought about Mr. Lee, much – he didn’t even know the man’s first name, or anything about him aside from the fact that he’s worked for Woojin’s family for as long as Woojin can remember. He’s never really cared about the head of housekeeping – _which says a lot about you, you asshole_ – or even considered the fact that the head of housekeeping might care about _him_.

“My aunt?” Woojin asks.

The head of housekeeping smiles sadly. “I figured you would figure it out.”

“Is that a good thing?” Woojin grimaces.

“Who knows?” The head of housekeeping chuckles. “The chauffeur tells me you’ve been to meet her?”

Woojin’s eyes widen. _Does_ everyone _know about_ everything _I do?_

The head of housekeeping just laughs at Woojin, as if to say, _yes_. “How is her son doing?”

“He goes to my high school. He also plays baseball.” Woojin shrugs and adds, “He’s a really good kid.”

“That’s good to hear.” The head of housekeeping looks sad.

Woojin feels bad for him – actually, he feels twice as bad because he had never thought that someone might’ve been sad about his aunt getting kicked out of the house. _Of course someone had, you idiot._

Wishing he had Chan’s _superpower_ to always say the right thing, Woojin finds himself saying, “Is that all, Mr. Lee?”

_God damn it, Woojin._

“Actually, I’m not finished with my apology,” Mr. Lee says. “I called your cram school to let them know that you were spending the day with your grandmother.”

Woojin frowns. “Mom never said anything about-”

“Let’s not mention this to your mom.” Mr. Lee winks. “Go get dressed, Woojin, your grandmother doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

 

_Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted Mr. Lee with my life???_

_Especially if my mom doesn’t even know where I am???_

I _DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE I AM???_

Woojin’s gripping on his seatbelt with one hand and the handle of the car door with the other. His knuckles are almost completely white.

“Mr. Lee?” Woojin calls out weakly as the car skids into a narrow street. The buildings on either side are right up against the street, so when Woojin looks out the window, all he can see is peeling paint and mold.

“Yes?” Mr. Lee’s sitting the passenger’s seat, telling the chauffeur to turn left or right every now and then, but saying nothing else. “Where are we going?”

Mr. Lee only laughs.

_Well shit,_ Woojin thinks, clutching the seatbelt tighter. _You’re going to die._

_I’m going to die without even graduating high school._

Woojin shuts his eyes when the car comes to a sudden stop.

“Woojin?” Mr. Lee laughs as he opens Woojin’s door. “Are you carsick?”

“Maybe.” Woojin lies, fumbling with his seatbelt and stumbling out of the car. He looks up at the narrow toothpaste-green building in front of them. _Where the hell is this? How do I call for help?_

_God, Woojin, why are you so_ stupid _?_

_Maybe I should run,_ Woojin thinks with a sidelong glance at Mr. Lee, who seems preoccupied ringing the building’s doorbell.

“Um, hello?” A voice calls out from the crackling speaker.

Woojin freezes, just about to sprint. He knows it’s dumb, but he walks over to Mr. Lee.

“Hello?” The voice calls out again, louder this time.

_Like an idiot._

Woojin clears his throat. “Hi Chan.”

“W _\- Woojin_?”

“Tell him you’re here to finish teaching him math,” Mr. Lee whispers.

“Oh.” Woojin leans in to the speaker again. “I was wondering if you wanted my help with Math?”

“Wondering?” Chan’s little laugh eases all the tension from Woojin’s shoulders. “Sounds like you’ve already made plans.”

“It’s not really my plan this time,” Woojin says, a smile spreading across his face. “But yeah.”

“Give me a sec, Woojin, I’ll just put some pants on.” Chan’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Woojin’s entire face burns at the idea. _Why did he have to_ announce _that?_

“Mr. Nakamoto and I will be round this afternoon to pick you up,” Mr. Lee says, nodding over to the chauffeur, who gives Woojin a quick wink.

“Thank you.” Woojin reaches out and pats Mr. Lee on the arm, surprising himself more than the head of housekeeping.

Still, Mr. Lee’s too surprised to reply at first. “Y- You’re welcome, Woojin.”

 

Chan opens the front gate of the apartment building to find Woojin standing on the front steps, his hands buried in his pockets.

“How’d you get here?” Chan asks, looking up and down the street to find nothing but his neighbor’s parked scooter.

“I was dropped off.” Woojin says, in that careless way that lets you know, even without him saying anything, that he _didn’t_ come by taxi. Chan knows he doesn’t mean to sound that way, but he does, and it makes Chan smile.

And kiss Woojin on the cheek.

“Well, I, uh- Ouch.”Woojin stumbles backward into a pile of boxes and old applicances Chan’s neighbors has dumped in the building lobby.

“Hey, whoa, be careful,” Chan laughs, helping Woojin to his feet.

Woojin rubs his butt where it’d knocked into the corner of an old TV. “What’s all this stuff?”

“Just stuff. Have you had breakfast?” Chan puts an arm around Woojin to turn him away from the junk. He’d never minded it before, but the way Woojin’s looking at the pile of stuff is making Chan wish it would all just vanish. “We have some breakfast leftover, my siblings don’t eat much.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Woojin says, as they go up the stairwell. Chan follows his line of sight up to this huge crack snaking along the wall all the way up to the second floor.

“I’ve got a big math test on Monday.” Chan says, tilting his head to catch Woojin’s attention. It works.

Woojin blinks at Chan’s face, inches away from his own. “Okay.”

Chan shuffles around to Woojin’s other side to block the dying plant in the grimy landing, and then shuffles around to the other side to open the front door to his house.

“Mama!” Chan calls when they step inside. “Oh, just leave your shoes there, it’s really a mess, don’t worry about it.”

He kicks his sneakers off – he’d been wearing them like slippers, which his mother would’ve thrown a slipper at him for, if she’d known – and jogs into the kitchen.

“Who was it?” His mom asks, drying plates.

“My friend Woojin. He’s here to teach me math.”

His mom stops, holding a plate threateningly in one hand. “For how much?”

Chan backs up a step, though he knows there’s no outrunning his mom. “For free, Mama.”

One of his mother’s eyebrows raises an entire inch. “ _Really_?”

“Yes, Mama, he’s just helping me out.”

“That’s unusually kind of him.” His mother says. She sounds suspicious, but Chan’s not sure what of.

Chan’s trying to come up with something to say when he hears a soft noise behind him.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Woojin says, stepping gingerly through the archway into the kitchen.

“G- Good morning.” Chan’s mother drops the plate, but it just bounces in the sink. _Thank god it’s plastic,_ Chan sighs.

Chan feels Woojin’s fingers twitch towards his, which are clasped behind his back. He wants nothing more than to hold Woojin’s hand right now, but he keeps his hands together and says, “This is Woojin, Mama.”

“ _He’s_ Woojin,” His mom sounds weirdly relieved. “I’d thought you were talking about your other friend, the little one.”

Chan frowns. “Changbin?”

“Is that the loud one?”

Chan looks up at the ceiling, thinking for a moment. “I guess? But he’s not _that_ loud.”

“The one who talked your little sister into giving him 5 bucks.” Chan’s mother says. “The nerve.”

“Oh.” Chan grins and nods. “You’re talking about Jisung.”

“Jisung did _what_?” Woojin gasps.

Chan waves a hand dismissively. “That was when he was a freshman. Long time ago.”

“Not long enough.” Chan’s mom clicks her tongue. Then she smiles warmly at Woojin. “Have you had breakfast yet, Woojin?”

“Yes, I have, thanks, ma’am.” Woojin says.

“You boys can work at the table here,” Chan’s mom points at the plastic-topped breakfast nook with her rag. “I’ll make sure the little goblins don’t bother you.”

Woojin’s giggle when Chan’s mom says that makes Chan feel weak.

“Thanks, Mama.” Chan calls out as his mother goes to wrangle off Chan’s curious little sisters.

“Why is he here?”

“He’s cute.”

Chan looks back at Woojin, who’s trying to make himself comfortable on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook. _He sure is._

“Do you have any books or anything?” Woojin looks up at Chan with a goofy, apologetic smile. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”

“I thought you planned everything?” Chan asks, reaching for his backpack on the floor.

“Well, not- This wasn’t my idea, I told you.” Woojin snaps.

“Sure it wasn’t,” Chan snorts, pulling out his math book and a stack of the quizzes their teacher had returned.

Woojin opens his mouth to say something, but his jaw drops when he sees the quizzes. “What the hell are _those_?”

“Quizzes.” Chan says, wondering how such a smart guy could’ve missed that.

 

_Chan is a good guy. Chan is a good, kind, sweet, and painfully decent guy, and I like him a lot for it._

_But this is just… NOT… acceptable._

Woojin rifles through the crumpled papers Chan’s dumped onto the table. Chan must’ve just tossed them into his backpack without a second thought – or any _first_ thought, for that matter.

“Don’t you have a folder or something?” Woojin asks, trying to iron the papers out with his hands.

“Folder?”

Woojin glares up at Chan’s irritatingly innocent face. He resists every temptation to throttle Chan right now, and puts all his frustration into straightening out his papers. “How could you let them get _this_ fu- _messed_ up?”

“Oh, I already submitted those. They’ve already been graded.” Chan says.

“ _Still._ ” Woojin says through clenched teeth. He straightens another test out. _12/50_ , it reads in bright red ink.

He stops and frowns at it.

“Oh, don’t look at that,” Chan chuckles nervously, taking the paper out of Woojin’s hands.

The one under reads, _4/40 = 10%_.

“Or that.” Chan swipes it away.

The next paper reads, _0/25._

“Chan.” Woojin grabs Chan’s hand before the latter is able to take the paper away. He gives Chan’s hand a light squeeze, gripping it harder until Chan lets go of the exam. “I don’t care.”

Chan lowers his head. “I know you know I’m stupid, but I don’t want-”

“We’ve been over this.” Woojin says sternly. “You’re not stupid. And I won’t judge you over your scores. I’m here to fix it. I mean, _we’ll_ fix it.”

Chan doesn’t lift his head.

“Bang Chan, are you crying already?” Woojin tilts Chan’s chin up with one finger. “I haven’t even started with you yet.”

Chan sniffles and pulls his hoodie up to wipe his nose on it, which Woojin ignores for the good of humanity. “You sure you don’t want me to pay you? I could, I mean, not much, but I _could_ -”

“No.” Woojin says, then realizes he’d said it a bit roughly. “No thanks. This is going to sound real douche-y, but I don’t want or need your money, Chan.”

Chan sits down next to Woojin with a sigh. “I know.”

“Besides,” Woojin says, letting a smirk slide across his lips as he checks the doorway. He winks at Chan. “You already know how I like being paid.”

 

“All right, all right, all right,” Jisung says, clapping his hands together. “Listen up everyone-”

“Get off the fucking table, Jisung.”

“Auntie,” Jisung whines, crawling off the table like a bug. His aunt smacks him smartly on the ass before moving on to give the couple at the next table their order.

“Why _are_ we holding this meeting here?” Hyunjin asks, looking around the café with a light frown. It’s mostly empty at this time on a Saturday morning, but there are around five other people in here that Hyunjin doesn’t know, and that’s too many for his comfort.

“Because,” One of the other baristas says, lowering Hyunjin’s latte in front of him. It has a little cat drawn in the foam. “Jisung’s room is disgusting.”

“Babe.” Jisung protests. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

Hyunjin gives the barista a double take, and realizes it’s Jisung’s boyfriend. _Since when has he worked here?_

The door to the café opens, the bell giving off a little chime. Hyunjin freezes and braces for some other stranger to walk in, but it’s just Changbin.

“Hey guys.” Changbin says, walking over and crossing his arms.

“Have a seat, Changbin,” Jisung says with a gracious flourish of his hand. “We just started.”

“We haven’t started.” Hyunjin says.

Changbin stops before the table, refusing to sit down, no matter how hard Jisung gestures at the empty seat. “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me.”

“Dude.” Jisung makes a face like someone had shoved rotten food up his nose. “We _did_. Would you even be here if we _hadn’t_ -”

“I meant _from the start_ , dumbass!” Changbin stomps one boot on the fake wooden floor.

“Who are you calling a dumbass, dumbass?” Jisung’s boyfriend cuts in, leaning between Jisung and Changbin to lower a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table.

Hyunjin frowns. “We didn’t order cookies.”

“It’s on the house,” Jisung’s boyfriend winks at him.

Jisung grins. “Thanks, babe.”

“Actually, I may have borrowed your wallet.”

“ _Babe_.”

“Anyway,” Hyunjin says. “Sit down, Changbin.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.” Changbin kicks the chair back and flops into the seat, pulling out his phone. “So what are we here for?”

“We need to get evidence against NC Tech so they can get kicked out of the finals.” Jisung says, reaching for an oatmeal cookie. He takes a huge, savage bite out of the cookie. “An _we_ cam geddin.”

Changbin’s brow furrows. “And how are we gonna do that?”

“We don’t know. That’s why we called this meeting.” Hyunjin reaches for a cookie.

“So you’re telling me,” Changbin tilts his head to one side, eyes narrowed. “That you need a _leader_?”

 

“Chan.”

Chan looks up from his paper to find Woojin looking at him intently, and Chan’s heart hadn’t been ready for that. He makes a face and clutches at his chest dramatically.

“Stop it.” Woojin mumbles, his ears bright red. He hides a hand in front of his chest and tries pointing discreetly at the doorway behind him.

Chan cranes his neck to look over Woojin’s shoulder. Two little silhouettes dart out of the doorway as he does.

“Miya, Chae.” Chan calls out.

Chan’s younger sisters peek through the doorway innocently. “Yes?”

“Woojin wanted to meet you guys.”

“W- Wha- I didn’t-” Woojin sputters.

Chan’s sisters scuttle into the kitchen and perch themselves on their side of Chan’s chair.

“Hi, I’m Miya.”

Chan can’t help but grin when Woojin extends a hand, reconsiders it and takes it back, then extends it again.

“Hello, Miya.” Woojin frowns down at the tiniest handshake he’s ever had. “I’m Woojin.”

Chan’s other sister nudges him from behind. Chan looks back and finds his younger sister ducking behind his chair, still sneaking a few peeks in Woojin’s direction.

“And this is Chae,” Chan says, twisting in his seat to lift his younger sister onto his lap.

“Nice to meet you, Chae.” Woojin says, in that timid, polite voice he usually uses on much older people.

Chae ducks down, burying her face in the table to avoid Woojin’s gaze. Chan chuckles. _Same, Chae, same._

“What are you doing?” Miya asks, flipping through the papers and book open on the table.

Chan glances at Woojin, whose neck vein usually bulges at this sort of thing, but Woojin just laughs.

“I’m trying to teach your big brother math.” Woojin says, closing the book so Miya can read the cover.

Miya makes a face, sticking out her tongue when she reads the cover. “And are you getting anywhere?”

Woojin laughs again.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” Chan pokes Miya in the ribs.

“Nothing!” Miya squirms away, leaning on Woojin’s chair instead. “You’re just really bad at math.”

“I like math.” Chae offers.

“That’s good.” Woojin beams at her, and she buries her face into her knees.

Chan puts his arms around Chae and gives her tight squeeze, looking up at Woojin. He mouths, ‘We’re not gonna get anything done with them here.’

‘I figured as much.’ Woojin mouths back, over Miya’s head while the latter inspects Chan’s math book. Woojin clears his throat. “Oh, would you look at that, Chan, it looks like it’s time for us to take a break?”

Chan stifles a laugh. “Yeah, totally.”

Miya grabs Woojin by his sleeve then points at a page in the book. “This. Can you teach me this?”

“Woojin’s taking a break, Miya.” Chan says.

Woojin scrunches his nose at Chan as if to say, _Never mind that_. “What, you want to learn exponents?”

“Is that what you call the tiny numbers?” Miya asks, pointing at the book again.

“Yeah.” Woojin scoots on his chair to give Miya space to sit next to him.

Chae mumbles something too softly for Chan or anyone else to understand.

“What did you say, Chae?” Chan asks, lowering his voice as close as he can to her volume.

Chae looks up at Chan, then glances at Woojin for less than a second before looking down at her knees again. Her cheeks are bright red as she says, “I want to learn the cute numbers too.”

 

“I think that’s a terrible plan.” Jisung says flatly.

“I think you can’t come up with a better plan so you better stay in your fucking place,” Changbin says.

“I think neither of you are thinking right now.” Hyunjin says.

Minho takes that opportunity to swoop in with the water pitcher. “Anyone need more water?”

Changbin lifts his glass. “Thanks.”

“Okay.” Minho smiles sweetly at him, then promptly pours water into Hyunjin’s and Jisung’s glasses before walking away.

Jisung bites his lip to hide his smirk. _That’s_ my _Minho._

Changbin stands up, opening his mouth to say something that Jisung figures will be somewhere between less-than-nice to downright-fucking-rude, when he’s cut off by a loud chime.

“Oh! Hey! Hello guys!”

Hyunjin frowns at Jisung, then at the freshman who’d just walked into the café. “ _Felix_?”

Felix squeezes into the bench seat next to Jisung. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“What are you doing here?” Changbin asks.

“Don’t forget to buy something.” Jisung says, nodding at the menu on the wall, though he’s still not sure what’s going.

“Oh, well, I, you see, I was just in the area and I saw Changbin’s ig post,” Felix says, his voice getting progressively quieter and quieter. “and I was like, hey, must be a whole team thing so… yeah.”

Changbin frowns at Felix. “You have an Instagram? Do I follow you?”

“No.” Felix says flatly. Then he lets out a loud, painfully awkward guffaw. “So what’s up? You guys seem pretty tense!”

“We’re planning on how to get NC Tech disqualified.” Hyunjin says.

“So we can play at the finals.” Jisung adds.

“Against us.” Minho lowers a glass of water on the table in front of Felix.

Felix stares up at him, eyes wide and blank like there’s nothing going on behind them. “Sorry, but who are you?”

“Can I get some more water, _please_?” Changbin holds his glass up to Minho.

Minho rolls his eyes. “Apologize to my boyfriend and _maybe_ I’ll scoop some out of the toilet for you.”

“LEE MINHO BE KIND TO THE CUSTOMERS!” Jisung’s aunt shouts from behind the counter, startling a customer who’d been trying to poke a straw into his drink cup. He ends up poking his own hand instead, and howls in pain. Jisung’s aunt gasps and hands him a thick wad of tissues. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.”

The bell chimes again, but no one bothers to look at it. Changbin’s arguing with Minho, who seems to be arguing back just for sport – Jisung sighs – while Hyunjin whines about nobody taking anything seriously and Felix asks what’s going on about a hundred times.

“Guys.” Jisung says, but everyone’s talking at the same time so he can’t even get _one_ coherent thought together. “ _Guys_!”

 

Seungmin orders his sister’s coffee, then a milk tea for himself. Then he looks for somewhere to sit with the least number of people. _Couples, couples, couples… A whole lot of angry teenage boys – Oh wait, I know those guys._

“Hi guys.” Seungmin waves with his hand still clutching the receipt.

“Oh, hey dude.” Minho’s busy trying to wrestle his boyfriend off of him so he can wrestle the guy calling him an asshole.

“What’s going on?” Seungmin asks Hyunjin, who’s just groaning into his frappe.

“Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.” Hyunjin says before taking a long, melodramatic sip.

“Maybe you shouldn’t fight him if he’s the one who’s serving our food,” says the freckled Weevil – Seungmin’s sorry he doesn’t know his name, but not _that_ sorry. The freckled Weevil’s trying to hold back the little jacked one, who’s been trying to get at Minho for the past couple of minutes.

“Yeah,” Minho bares his teeth at the jacked Weevil “I could be pissing in your drink and you wouldn’t even-”

“LEE MINHO!” The pretty barista behind the counter shouts. “BE NICE!”

“I tried being nice, Boss!” Minho shouts back.

“Try harder!” The pretty barista lowers her voice to a more pleasant one and calls out, “One double-shot Java Jelly and Matcha Milk Tea for Seungmin!”

“Oh. That’s you.” Hyunjin says, smiling at Seungmin.

“Yeah, it is.” Seungmin turns to get his and his sister’s drinks. _She’s probably given up on studying and taken a nap anyway, she won’t notice if her coffee’s a little late. Besides, things are much more interesting here…_

“How did you even get a _job_ here?” The jacked Weevil asks Minho, squaring up to him.

“Because I-”

“He’s screwing the owner’s nephew, Changbin,” Hyunjin mutters. “Go figure.”

“Excuse you, we are _dating_ ,” Jisung snaps at him.

“Awww, Jisung.” Minho clutches the water pitcher to his chest with a goofy smile on his face.

“We don’t have time for-” Changbin starts, but he’s cut off the chime of the bell above the door. “Why is that thing so _loud_?”

Both Minho and the freckled Weevil look at the general direction of the doorway. “What are _you_ doing here?”


	43. “It’s not stalking if you’re actually friends in real life” -Lee Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeongin takes a long slurp out of his strawberry frappe. “Does Woojin-hyung know about this?”
> 
> “Of course not.” Minho says, picking up the empty mugs and glasses on the table. “He’d probably tell us not to do it.”
> 
> “Cap wouldn’t like this, either.” Changbin says, lacing his fingers together thoughfully.
> 
> “So we shouldn’t tell them.” Seungmin says.
> 
> “Okay, not telling Coach- Hyunjin’s brother is one thing,” Jisung says defensively. “But I can’t keep a secret from Cap.”
> 
> “You can’t keep a secret, period.” Changbin says. 
> 
> “Changbin,” Minho lifts the pitcher of water threateningly. “You wanna go for a swim?”
> 
> “Okay, okay, okay, let’s not fight.” Felix says, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. “So it’s settled, we’re not gonna tell anyone else about it.”
> 
> “Tell anyone else about what?”

“What are _you_ doing here?”

Jeongin freezes in front of the door. “Suddenly, I don’t want a coffee anymore, Mommy.”

His mom cranes her neck to look over his shoulder and at the table of boys beckoning to Jeongin. “Aren’t those your friends?”

“I don’t _have_ friends.” Jeongin says solemnly.

“You can go talk to your friends.” Jeongin’s mom chuckles, patting him on the arm. “You want a strawberry frappe, right?”

“Yes, Mommy, thanks.”

 

“…So that’s how we’re going to get NC Tech kicked the fuck out of the finals!” Jisung says, scrunching his nose in a very intense way.

Jeongin makes a face. “That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

Both Jisung and Changbin stand up, first furled as if about to punch Jeongin in the face.

“I’m in.” Jeongin adds quickly.

“Oh.” Changbin sit back down. “So I guess we’re doing this?”

“Yeah.” Jisung says firmly.

“I guess.” Minho shrugs, coming back to the table with the water pitcher.

“What else can we do?” Seungmin asks.

Hyunjin takes a sip of his coffee. “My brother can’t know, okay?”

“Yeah. No one tells Co- I mean, Hyunjin’s brother.” Changbin glares at Jisung. “You hear me, _Jisung_?”

“More water?” Minho leans across the table and pours water into Changbin’s glass, spilling some into Changbin’s lap.

“Hey!” Changbin frowns at his lap.

Felix grabs a wad of tissues and pats them into Changbin’s lap. “Here.”

Changbin frowns at Felix, who just blushes as he withdraws his hand slowly.

Jeongin takes a long slurp out of his strawberry frappe. “Does Woojin-hyung know about this?”

“Of course not.” Minho says, picking up the empty mugs and glasses on the table. “He’d probably tell us not to do it.”

“Cap wouldn’t like this, either.” Changbin says, lacing his fingers together thoughfully.

“So we shouldn’t tell them.” Seungmin says.

“Okay, not telling Coach- uh, _Hyunjin’s brother_ is one thing,” Jisung says defensively. “But I can’t keep a secret from _Cap_.”

“You can’t keep a secret, period.” Changbin says.

“Changbin,” Minho lifts the pitcher of water threateningly. “You wanna go for a swim?”

“Okay, okay, okay, let’s not fight.” Felix says, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. “So it’s settled, we’re not gonna tell anyone else about it.”

“Tell anyone else about what?”

The boys whirl around, eyes wide like raccoons caught in a dumpster, to find Jeongin’s mom carrying two drinks in her hands.

“N- Nothing… _much_ , ma’am.” Jisung says quickly. “We’re planning a surprise birthday party for our captain.”

“Well that’s nice,” Jeongin’s mom hands Jeongin a frightfully pink drink. “Here’s your drink, baby.”

“Thanks Mommy,” Jeongin mumbles, his face turning the same color as the drink.

“So,” Jisung says in a loud, deeply overconfident voice, hands on his hips. “Who’s bringing the cake?”

“I can.” Minho says, without batting an eyelash.

“Oh, is this for _your_ captain?” Jeongin’s mom lifts an eyebrow at Jeongin.

“Uh…” Jeongin ducks down and takes a very long sip of his drink.

“It’s for both of our captains.” Jisung says.

“They have the same birthday.” Felix adds.

“They’re twins.” Hyunjin adds.

The entire table turns to him, frowning. Hyunjin frowns at himself, too.

Jeongin’s mom takes a long sip of her tea, eyebrows raised every so slightly. “Isn’t Woojin’s birthday in April?”

“It is.” Jeongin mutters.

“Don’t worry,” Jeongin’s mom lifts a hand like she’s about to recite a pledge. “I won’t tell Woojin or anyone else about your plan to get NC Tech disqualified.”

Changbin’s face blanches. “You heard all that?”

“You were talking so loudly, I didn’t think you were trying to keep it a secret.” Jeongin’s mom giggles. “Anyway, I’d love to help.”

“Mommy,” Jeongin says, frowning at her. “Aren’t _you_ from NC Tech?”

“Exactly.” Jeongin’s mom smiles sweetly.

 

_A few days later_

**Team #1: The Guy(s) In The Chair(s)**

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchange glances when they find that the building in front of them seems to be more glass and steel than concrete.

“This is an office building.” Seungmin says, already turning on his heels to go back to the bus stop.

“Wait, wait,” Hyunjin says, catching Seungmin by the jacket. “Let’s just check?”

Seungmin’s lips flatten out into a straight line as he narrows his eyes at Hyunjin for long enough to make Hyunjin sweat a little. “Fine.”

Seungmin pulls out his phone. “Hey, Felix? Hyunjin and I are at the address you said, but-”

“Oh, yeah, I can see you.”

Hyunjin whirls around wildly, looking for Felix, but there’s no one else on the wide, tree-lined sidewalk.

“What the heck?” Seungmin asks, but Felix has already hung up. He turns to Hyunjin. “How well do you know this guy?”

“He’s a freshman…” Hyunjin’s still spinning around like a dog trying to catch its own tail.

Felix comes hopping out of the main entrance of the building in a few minutes, wearing sweats, a t-shirt, and slides with socks. Seungmin frowns. He isn’t judgmental like the other people in his school, but Felix really doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who lives in a place like this. _This doesn’t even look like a place where people live…_

“Hey guys! Come in,” Felix gestures at the huge glass doors. “I just made some popcorn.”

Seungmin and Hyunjin exchange slightly distrusting looks as they follow Felix into a huge glass-and-marble lobby. Felix crosses the lobby to what looks like an emergency exit door, and holds it open for the other two. They go into a dull white hallway with a single door at the end. Felix punches the code in for the door, and Seungmin and Hyunjin find themselves in a small apartment that’s disappointingly a lot like their own apartments.

“Dad works in security, so he has to be here 24/7,” Felix explains. He opens the microwave and pulls out a steaming bag of popcorn. Felix rips it open and tips the popcorn into a bowl.“Do you guys want popcorn?”

“Sure.” Hyunjin, still confused, thrusts his hand into the steaming bowl.

Seungmin gives him a worried look, but Hyunjin doesn’t even flinch.

“This is my room,” Felix says, kicking open a door that’s slightly ajar. The room is tiny and dark, because the window has a lovely view of the wall of the building next door. Clothes are scattered on the bed and floor, but Seungmin doesn’t mind them as he walks over to the three-monitor setup in the corner.

“Howy craaah.” Hyunjin gapes, mouth full fo steaming popcorn as he looks at the glowing keyboard of Felix’s PC.

“Oh, yeah, I built that myself,” Felix runs a hand through his hair, slightly embarrassed. “Anyway, the wifi is the one named Felix, and the password is uh… Felix, capital F.”

Seungmin stops ogling Felix’s computer to blink blankly at him. “Seriously?”

 

**Team #2: The Muscle**

“Yeah, this is it.” Minho checks his phone. “If we’re at the wrong place, I’m blaming Felix.”

Changbin glares at him. “There are three of them there, why pick on Felix?”

“Because it pisses you off for _some reason_ ,” Minho hums, dodging Changbin’s fist calmly. He rings the doorbell of the apartment. “Hello, Mr. Han? We’re from NC Tech High School, we called you earlier about interviewing you for our school paper.”

When Minho takes his hand off the intercom button, Changbin frowns at him. “You said _what_?”

“Just go with it,” Minho waves a hand dismissively. Then he smiles brightly when a middle-aged man in an ugly sweater opens the door. “Hi!”

“I thought I told you to piss off.”

“We just have a few questions for the school paper, sir.” Minho says, catching the door with one hand as the man tries to close it.

“Fuck off before I call the police.”

Minho’s smile strains. “We only wanted to-”

He only just maanges to pull his hand out of the way before the door slams shut.

Minho’s smile drops right off his face. “Son of a bitch.”

“I have a feeling they’re all gonna be like this.” Changbin grimaces.

“Well, whatever, on to the next one.” Minho starts down the hallway. “What’s your Felix say about the next umpire?”

“I don’t understand how they did it and I don’t really want to,” Changbin says, checking his phone. “But they said he’s at the park between our schools right now.”

“Don’t give them too much credit, they probably just found his facebook or something.” Minho stretches his arms over his head.

“Wait a sec,” Changbin frowns, jogging to keep up with Minho. “Did you just call him _my_ Felix?”

 

**Team #3: The Trojan Horse**

Jisung watches the tall gates of NC Tech roll into view. He knew it was a rich kid school, but he didn’t expect it to look like fucking _Hogwarts._ The school itself looks a little like a castle, with towers and everything. Jisung makes a conscious effort to close his mouth.

“Thanks again for helping us out, Mrs. Jeongin’s mom.” Jisung says.

“It’s my pleasure, Jisung,” Jeongin’s mom beams at him through the rearview mirror. “Jeongin sweetie, can you pass my lipstick and sunglasses please? They’re in the glove.”

Jeongin reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses and a golden lipstick container. “Mommy, why-”

His mom stops the car at the gate. She swipes the lipstick on quickly – it’s a deep blood red – and slides the glasses on as a security guard trots over.

Jeongin’s mom rolls the window down and gives the security guard a haughty toss of her head. “I’m here to see the new stadium.”

“Uh, who are you?” The guard asks.

Jeongin’s mom lowers her sunglasses. “Rose Kim.”

“Who?”

Jeongin’s mom lets out an exasperated huff. “My brother’s asking me to see how the stadium’s construction has turned out.” When the guard’s frown doesn’t ease up, she adds, “We’re the ones who donated it.”

“Oh, of course, sorry, ma’am.”

Jeongin’s mom rolls the window up again. “I did _not_ miss doing that.”

 

Jeongin has to skip to catch up to his mom as she storms through NC Tech’s hallways. People are frowning at her and her sunglasses as she walks past, and honestly, Jeongin has no idea what’s going on, either. _I didn’t even know Mommy could drive…_

Jeongin wonders if his dad knows that, because he’s been driving her around like a fool for years.

“Is she usually like this?” Jisung whispers.

“No.” Jeongin whispers back. “It’s like she’s on crack or something.”

Jeongin’s mom claps a man suddenly on the shoulder, and Jeongin jumps, ready to fight him if he tries to fight his mom.

The man turns around.

“That’s their head coach.” Jisung whispers.

“Oh crap.” Jeongin whispers back when the man frowns at his mom. _Am I gonna get my ass kicked for my mom today?_

The head coach’s frown melts into a dry grin. “ _Rose Kim_?”

“Hi Charlie.” Jeongin’s mom says, her smile so fake that it looks like it’s made of plastic.

“Holy shit, I haven’t seen you since high school!” The Tigers’ head coach chuckles. “You look like a _woman_ now.”

Jeongin balls his hand into a fist. _Maybe I_ will _have to get my ass kicked for my mom after all._

“And you look like my grandpa,” Jeongin’s mom chuckles back. “Where’d all your hair go?”

The Tigers’ head coach seems to ignore that, still grinning as he looks Jeongin’s mom up and down. “Are you still with Jaehyun? Or _not_?”

Jeongin steps between them. “That’s a weird thing to ask someone you haven’t seen in years.”

The Tigers’ head coach gives Jeongin a sour look. “And who are you, little guy?”

“Charlie, this is my son, Jeongin.” Jeongin’s mom places her hands on his shoulders, pulling him back a step.

“Jaehyun’s my dad.” Jeongin says defensively. “They’re married.”

“Well, that’s something.” The coach lets out a low whistle, looking visibly bummed out that Jeongin’s there. Which, of course, Jeongin does _not_ like. “Can’t believe you actually stayed with that guy.”

Jeongin’s mom’s eye twitches at that, but she keeps smiling. “He and I were considering transferring Jeongin here next year. For the baseball program.”

“Well,” The coach pats Jeongin on the arm, which Jeongin doesn’t appreciate. “With _your_ genes, you won’t have any trouble getting in here, kiddo.”

Jeongin hates only one thing more than his mom calling him “baby” in front of other people, and that’s when random men who are clearly interested in his mom call him things like “kiddo”.

“My friend’s moving here too.” Jeongin says, dragging Jisung forward to put more people between the Tigers’ coach and his mom. “He got a scholarship offer.”

Jisung waves weakly, like he doesn’t want to be here at all.

“Oh, you,” the coach nods. “Han Jisung, right?”

“Yessir.”

“We’d love to have you here.” The coach says. “Though between your school and this one, it’s not really a hard decision, is it?”

Jeongin’s mom clears her throat loudly.

“Hey Charlie,” She says in a soft, gentle voice. “You think one of your boys could give the kids a tour so we could, you know, _catch up_?”

Jeongin frowns at his mom. _What are you doing?_

“Oh, uh.” The coach’s face reddens down to his neck. “Uh, sure. Yeah, I- Um. Jaemin!”

A boy who’d been jogging past comes to a stop next to them. “Yeah, coach?”

“These guys might be your teammates next year.” The Tigers’ coach practically shoves Jeongin and Jisung towards the other boy. “Show them around the school and stuff.”

Jaemin gives Jeongin and Jisung a wary elevator look before saying, “Sure thing, Coach.”

Jeongin frowns up at his mom. He doesn’t like the way the Tigers’ coach is looking at her – _like she’s a cheeseburger_ – and hopes she notices it. “Mommy-”

“I’ll see you later, baby.”

 

“And this is the soccer field.” Jaemin throws a hand carelessly in the direction of the field beside them.

Jisung’s desperate to start some kind of conversation. “It’s so… _green_.”

“It’s plastic.” Jaemin scuffs one of his cleats into the nearest patch of grass, and it makes an ugly scratching noise.

“Oh.”

Jeongin seems to appear between them. “Is your coach married?”

“I don’t know.” Jaemin says. “And honestly, I don’t care.”

“Jeongin.” Jisung hisses. The kid seriously has some issues with staying on track.

“I think I need to get back to my mom.” Jeongin says. He’s had that Oh-crap-did-I-leave-the-stove-on kind of face since they started on this tour.

“Your mom is _fine_.” Jisung insists.

“But-”

“She’s an adult, Jeongin, she can handle herself.” Jisung looks back to find that Jaemin’s already at the other end of the walkway. “Besides, we have a job to do, remember?”

Jeongin just turns away from Jisung and sprints after their guide. “Hey, Jaemin?”

“What?” Jaemin asks irritably.

“Does your school pay umpires off?”

Jisung’s eyes widen as he grabs Jeongin by the arm. “Dude what the _fuck_?”

“Again,” _Jaemin’s face is so cold… you can make ice cream on it._ Jisung frowns at his own metaphor. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“Sorry about him,” Jisung says, pulling Jeongin behind him. He lets out a laugh that he hopes doesn’t sound as nervous and forced as he feels. “He has no filter. At all.”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about our team,” Jaemin glares down at Jisung – he’s _that_ much taller than Jisung, and his gaze is so intense that Jisung feels sweat collecting on his forehead. “But when we win, it’s because we’re better than the other team.”

“O- Of course.” Jisung stammers out.

 

**Team #2**

Changbin can’t help but smile when they walk into the park. He’s been here so often that it feels like home. _I’m probably here more than I’m at home, actually…_

“That’s him.” Minho’s teeth are clenched as he points at a figure standing a little way off, in the grass.

Changbin wonders what’s got Minho’s goat _this time_ , then he looks closely at the figure as they come closer. It’s the umpire from _that_ match, the one where Chan had gotten hurt.

Changbin curls his fists. It was pretty dumb of the others to let people like him and Minho go after the umpires without someone to hold them back.

The umpire looks at them as they come closer, eyebrows lifted as if to ask them why they’re coming closer.

Changbin opens his mouth to say something, then two small children dart past.

“Hey! Don’t run too far away, okay!” The umpire calls after them. “Stay where I can see you!”

_Damn it,_ Changbin swears internally. _He’s got kids._

“Excuse me,” Minho says brightly. “Are you Mr. Dong?”

The umpire frowns. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“We’re students from-”

“S----- High.” Changbin says. He’s afraid they can see right through Minho’s dumb lies, so might as well tell the truth. _Sort of_.

“We’re part of the school paper, and we’re doing interviews for a special on this year’s national baseball-”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m the right person to be, uh,” The umpire scratches his head. “Interviewed for that.”

Minho opens his mouth again, but Changbin’s not going to stand around and wait for something outrageous to crawl out, as usual.

“Actually, we just wanted to talk.” Changbin says. “I’m from the W------ High Weevils. You were assigned to our match a few weeks back.”

The umpire’s brow furrows, like it’s not ringing any bells. Changbin swallows back his annoyance.

“Our captain got a concussion in the middle of the match.” Changbin says, feeling a sick little bit of satisfaction when the umpire’s expression turns distressed.

“Oh, that.” The umpire glances over at the two kids rolling in the grass a little way off. “How is he doing? Is he all right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine now.” Changbin says. “He had to rest for a week, though.”

“I’m sorry,” The umpire says.

“What for? It’s not like _you_ were the one who knocked him out.” Minho pipes up.

“Of course not, and it was an accident,” The umpire says. “And I’m sorry it happened. I’m glad he’s okay, tho-”

“You should’ve stopped the game.” Changbin says tensely.

The umpire looks down at the grass. “Maybe I should’ve.”

“Even a rookie wouldn’t make that mistake.” Minho says. “Why didn’t you stop the game?”

The umpire turns to the two kids and shouts, “Seol-ah! Don’t be so rough with your sister!”

Then he looks back at Minho and Changbin. Minho’s arms are crossed, and Changbin can’t help but keep his fists furled at his sides. Minho may not be delicate about it, but he’s right. There’s no excuse for what he did.

_But then again,_ Changbin thinks. _There’s no way he’d just own up to everything._

“You’re lucky their captain’s too poor to sue.” Minho says.

Changbin gazes at Minho with a mixture of admiration and embarrassment. _Either he’s really gutsy, or just a bitch._

_Considering he’s Jisung’s boyfriend, probably both._

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened, but it was an accident. Those things happen in sports.” The umpire says. “And I made a mistake. A big one. I’m sorry about that, too.”

“We might just be kids to you,” Changbin says. “But we’re not stupid.”

“Then why do you need to ask?” The umpire looks at the two kids again. “Seol-ah! Not so rough!”

The umpire excuses himself and runs to the two girls, gently asking the older one not to play so rough with her sister.

Minho turns around and says quietly, “The younger kid’s in and out of the hospital often.”

“How do you _know_?” Changbin makes a face at him.

Minho just cups one hand around one ear and nods in the direction of the dad. Changbin can’t hear what the umpire is saying from here, but he trusts Minho’s eavesdropping skills, at least.

“So if he did take a bribe, he probably did for his kid’s hospital bills?” Changbin suddenly feels sick, like he’d eaten something off and his stomach’s hating him for it.

Minho shrugs. “Either way…”

“Yeah, let’s not bother him anymore.”

 

**Team #3**

“Jaemin!” Someone calls out, running down the hallway from the other end. Jaemin’s just brought Jisung and Jeongin to see the classrooms – which are a thousand times nicer than the ones at W----- High.

Jaemin rolls his eyes so hard that Jisung _feels_ it.

“Jaemin!” The guy calls again as he comes closer. Jisung recognizes him, so he must be another one of the Tigers. “Where the hell have you _been_?”

“Coach made me tour _these guys_.” Jaemin says, sounding like he’s been forced to throw out the trash.

The other Tiger frowns at Jisung. _Why? I don’t even know this guy? What could I have done to him?_

“You’re from W----- High, right?” The other Tiger asks.

“No, we’re from S------ High.” Jisung says quickly, hoping it wasn’t _too_ quickly.

“Come on, man. You’re #69 of the Weevils.” The other Tiger says.

“Real mature.” Jaemin rolls his eyes again.

“Why is that mature?” Jeongin frowns.

_Dear, sweet, Jeongin._ Jisung sighs.

The other Tiger ignores Jeongin. “How’s your captain doing?”

“He’s fine.” Jisung says. “No thanks to your pitcher.”

Jaemin bristles then, and for a second Jisung’s afraid that he’s finaly going to whoop Jisung’s ass. _If he looks_ that _big in a jersey… I’m dead._

Thankfully, the other Tiger extends an arm to hold Jaemin back. “It was an accident.”

“Jeno already apologized.” Jaemin spits out.

“And we’re all sorry.” The other Tiger says, earning a cold look from Jaemin.

“What for?” Jisung frowns.

“It wasn’t a fair game to begin with,” The other Tiger says, holding Jaemin back again before the latter can say or do anything. “Nobody deserves to be treated the way you guys were.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say. _He just admitted, didn’t he? That was a confession? Right? WHY AM I NOT RECORDING THIS?_

“Donghyuck, seriously.” Jaemin mutters.

“I’m just trying to be a decent person.” Donghyuck says. “Even if our school won’t be.”

Jaemin sucks in his cheeks and crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Thanks.” Jisung says, surprising himself.

“I’m still hoping we get to play finals,” Donghyuck says. “But if ever the federation decides to kick us out, good luck.”

Jisung’s afraid he’s going to tear up. “Thanks.”

“You’d better beat the goddamn Bears.” Donghyuck claps Jisung on the arm. “That school is full of bitches.”

Jeongin flinches then. “ _Hey_!”

 

**Team #1**

Hyunjin feels lost. Felix and Seungmin are talking at each other with Hyunjin in the middle, but everything’s just flying over Hyunjin’s head. Hyunjin’s not nearly as stupid as his brother when it comes to technology, but Felix and Seungmin are practically _hackers_.

“Wait, you can do that?” Hyunjin asks for the hundredth time that day.

“Yeah, you can find their posts if you’re not friends.” Felix shrugs.

Seungmin grimaces. “It’s how you stalk people.”

Felix blushes, hard. “I- I don’t- It’s not _stalking_ if you’re actually friends in real life.”

“Nobody was accusing you of anything, dude.” Seungmin says.

“Ha ha _yeah_.” Felix laughs nervously.

The page Hyunjin had been refreshing for the past thirty minutes finally loads. “Hey guys, it loaded.”

“Oh thank god.” Seungmin rolls over on his computer chair to look at the one of Felix’s monitors Hyunjin had been working on. “Their website’s such a fucking mess. Why even make a mobile version if it doesn’t work on any kind of phone?”

Hyunjin moves out of the way and just looks over Seungmin’s shoulder. “Is this… the federation’s official website?”

“It’s the part for their employees.” Seungmin says, scrolling down faster than Hyunjin can read. He stops on one announcement marked [URGENT].

“What’s that?” Felix asks, probably noticing Seungmin’s frown.

“It’s the announcement that they’re investigating the case against NC Tech.”

Hyunjin tries to stop a smile from creeping in. He can be a little proud of his brother sometimes.

“But it’s weird.” Seungmin shakes his head, scrolling back up. “Hyunjin, when did your brother file the complaint?”

Hyunjin looks up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “A few weeks ago? I don’t remember, sorry.”

“Right after your game?”

“Yeah.”

Seungmin scrolls back down. “This post is from much later.”

“Maybe they took a long time to decide to investigate it?” Hyunjin accidentally rests his chin on Seungmin’s shoulder as he looks at the screen. Hyunjin scoots back an entire meter, his heart hammering around in his chest. “Sorry.”

Seungmin doesn’t seem to have noticed, still frowning at the webpage. Felix rolls over in his computer chair and squints at the screen.

“Hold on.” Felix says. “Stay on that post.”

“Why?” Seungmin rolls to one side to give Felix space.

“The case they’re investigating,” Felix grabs the mouse and zooms in on the page. “Is on the game between NC Tech and S----- High, not us.”

“What?”

Seungmin peers at the screen again. “Yeah, it is. That’s weird.”

Hyunjin puts his feet up on his chair and rests his chin on his knees. _This doesn’t make any sense._ “Did you even know that your school was filing a case against NC Tech?”

Seungmin shakes his head slowly, like he’s thinking about something. He opens his own phone and starts typing wildly, the pads of his fingers making a frantic kind of rhythm on the screen.

“Seungmin?” Felix asks in mild concern.

“Here.” Seungmin taps the side of his phone while the page loads. “Look.”

Hyunjin and Felix roll over on their chairs to look at the page open on Seungmin’s phone.

The words seem to jump out at Hyunjin one by one, not really making any sense. _Donation… 1.5 billion won…_

“Who’s that?” Felix asks, pointing at the name in the article.

“Woojin’s dad.” Seungmin says, voice lowered.

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. It all makes sense now, but he feels like he was better off not knowing.

 

_The next Monday_

Felix arrives late, scrambling into the café with his scarf flapping around him like a set of wings. He finds all the other guys sitting around a table in the café, looking down at their drinks in complete silence.

“Hi everyone,” Felix says. “What did I miss?”

“We just finished telling everyone what we found out.” Changbin says.

Felix sits down next to him, frowning. He’s never seen Changbin _this_ upset, and it’s making him upset, too. “What was it?”

“The umpire probably took a bribe.” Changbin says. “But it was for his kid who was in the hospital, if ever.”

Felix looks down at his lap, picking at a hangnail. _Everything just gets worse and worse._

“Oh, he definitely took a bribe.” Jisung says.

“Yeah, the Tigers basically admitted to it.” Jeongin says.

“So they _knew_ their team was cheating?” Felix makes a face, deeply disgusted.

“They’d have to be real idiots not to.” Minho says, lowering a mug of black coffee gently in front of Changbin. “They weren’t very subtle about it.”

“That’s terrible.” Felix says.

“It is.” Seungmin says.

Felix picks harder at his hangnail. _I wonder if they’ve already told the others about what we found…_

“Do you want something to drink?” Minho asks him, and Felix is a little startled by how kindly he says it, like a kindergarten teacher.

“Just water, thanks.” Felix says.

“Okay.” Minho stands up to make his way to the counter.

“Oh, uh, did you guys find anything?” Jisung asks, and the entire table just stares blankly at him. “Team #1? _The guys in the chairs?_ ”

“I thought we were getting rid of that whole team name thing.” Changbin frowns.

“Hey, I worked hard on those team names.” Jisung pouts.

“They’re not that great.”

“Anyway,” Minho says, lowering a glass of water in front of Felix. “What did you guys find out?”

“It’s…” Felix looks at Seungmin and Hyunjin, who are looking at their drinks like they have no plans of talking anytime soon. _I guess it’s on me now._ “It’s not that great.”

“Why?” Jeongin asks.

Felix swallows. He knows Jeongin’s best friends with the Bears’ captain, and the other day they were saying something about them being related, so he’s a bit apprehensive about just throwing everything out in the open-

“What did you find out?” Changbin asks, cocking his head to one side as he looks at Felix.

Felix is a simple guy. He can’t ignore Changbin.

“The federation didn’t actually investigate Hyunjin’s brother’s complaint.” Felix says.

“They probably just ignored it.” Hyunjin says bitterly.

“They’re investigating _our_ match with NC Tech, not yours.” Seungmin adds.

Jisung looks deeply hurt. “What?”

Minho looks annoyed. “ _Why_?”

“Because,” Felix looks at Jeongin, who seems distracted by his strawberry frappe. “Their captain’s dad donated 1.2 billion won to the federation.”

A silence falls on the table.

“Is that true?” Jisung asks Jeongin.

“I don’t know, we don’t even talk to them.” Jeongin snaps, almost defensively.

“It sounds about right, though.” Minho says. “That’s how Cap’s dad works.”

“But Woojin-hyung probably didn’t have anything to do with it-”

“We never _said_ he did-”

“But you sounded like-”

“Jeongin, we’d never-”

“But he _does_ have everything to gain from-”

“He didn’t know anything about it!” Jeongin slams his hands on the table, rattling everyone’s drinks.

Seungmin reaches for some tissue to mop up the spilled coffee. “Let’s stop talking about it.”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin says. “That’s a good idea.”

Minho comes in with a rag and swipes it across the table. “It was pretty fucking dumb of us to think we could do anything about this shit.”

“Come on,” Changbin says. “There was no harm in trying.”

“You mean there was no point.” Minho tucks the damp rag into a pocket on his apron.

“Babe.” Jisung warns, tapping Minho’s hand gently with two fingers.

Felix sighs and sinks into his seat. “I wish baseball were just about baseball.”


	44. “Oh, you haven’t seen insufferable” – Lee Minho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A real boyfriend would listen to everything you say,” Woojin says, patting Jihyo’s hand softly. “And admit it if he weren’t really listening.”
> 
> Jihyo makes a face at Woojin, baring all her teeth. “You really love to rub it in that you know what that’s like, huh?”
> 
> “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
> 
> “Then who the hell is that?” Jihyo points at someone on the other side of the school fence, waving at them with both arms.

“…so I was like, the yearbook _needs_ to come out when we graduate, not ten years later,” Jihyo says, and she’s been going on about the yearbook since their classes had ended twenty minutes ago, but Woojin’s still trying to listen for her sake. “Because no one’s going to give a fuck about the yearbook ten years from now. Right?”

“Huh?” Woojin holds the door open while she passes through.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah.” _But nothing’s coming through. Sorry, Ji._

“Whatever.” Jihyo loops her arm around Woojin’s. “You act like a _real_ boyfriend.”

“A real boyfriend would listen to everything you say,” Woojin says, patting Jihyo’s hand softly. “And admit it if he weren’t really listening.”

Jihyo makes a face at Woojin, baring all her teeth. “You really love to rub it in that you know what that’s like, huh?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Then who the hell is that?” Jihyo points at someone on the other side of the school fence, waving at them with both arms.

Woojin’s entire face goes warm, and he’s possessed by the sudden urge to dig a very deep hole and bury himself alive. “I’ll, uh, go on ahead, Ji.”

“Whatever.” Jihyo says, but she’s smiling. She punches Woojin in the arm. “I know he’s hot, but behave yourself, okay?”

Woojin stops to give her one cold, withering glare.

“Okay, fine, jeez,” Jihyo rubs the spot where she’d punched Woojin. “I’ll stop looking at your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend.” Woojin mutters under his breath, skipping a few steps on his way down the stairs so he can hurry up and stop Chan from embarrassing them all. He shoots a quick text at Mr. Nakamoto, the chauffeur, to say that he may not be going home straightaway.

Chan’s still jumping and waving his arms when Woojin brisk walks up to him.

“What are you _doing_?” Woojin hisses at him, holding onto his arms to stop him from waving them around like an inflatable man.

Chan just jumps and hugs Woojin.

Woojin looks back anxiously at the people filing out of his school as he pries Chan off of him. “Wait, Chan, calm down.”

“Okay, sorry.” Chan steps back, but he’s practically _vibrating_ with excitement.

Woojin sighs and drags Chan down the street and around a corner, away from the rest of his schoolmates. “What’s up?”

Chan reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, holding it out to Woojin.

Woojin frowns as he takes the paper and unfolds it, ironing it out with his fingers. It’s a longish math exam, probably the one Chan had been talking about last Saturday.

The score, written in bright red ink, is _40/50_. Chan’s math teacher had drawn a small, smiling kitten and written, _Great job!_

“Holy crap.”

“I know, right?” Chan beams.

“This is amazing, Chan.” Woojin smiles, flipping to the next page, then back to the first one. His heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“No, _you’re_ amazing.” Chan says, clapping Woojin’s cheeks between his hands as he pulls Woojin in for a kiss.

Woojin staggers backward, breaking the kiss. “Chan, we’re in public.”

Chan doesn’t even look around. “Why?”

“ _Why_?” Woojin squeaks. “Because other people can see us, that’s why.”

“People aren’t that closed-minded these-”

“That’s not it, Chan.” Woojin says, taking one shuddering breath. “I just can’t- _We_ can’t be like this in public.”

Chan’s eyebrows meet at a confused point. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like you a lot, but this thing… _us…_ ” Woojin makes a wild hand gesture between them. “Jihyo thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

Chan’s entire face falls. “I’m not?”

“No, you’re not- I mean, you can’t be.” Woojin shuts his eyes. _I sound like an asshole. Why do I always have to be the asshole?_ “I can’t do the boyfriend thing, not now.”

“Okay.” Chan says, but his nod is very slow and vague. He looks up at Woojin with pleading eyes. “Is it okay for me to ask why?”

Woojin sighs. _What am I supposed to say? What_ can _I say?_

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Chan asks, mouth twisting into a sad, half-smile. “You’re embarrassed of me.”

“No, Chan, what the fuck.” Woojin almost hits him.

“Come on, Woojin, it’s okay. I get it.” Chan shrugs, but his shoulders still seem weighed down. “I’m not exactly someone you can be proud of.”

“I _am_ proud of you.” Woojin hands the slightly-less-crumpled paper back to Chan pointedly. “Look, _this_ is-”

“Just a little bit above passing.” Chan says. “And I’m still failing the whole subject. Miserably.”

“I don’t care about that.” Woojin says, before catching himself and saying, “I mean, I _do_ care, but it’s not like I like you any less for having low grades.”

“I guess.” Chan shrugs again, and Woojin wishes he would stop _being_ like this. Woojin wants to say so many things, that Chan’s an amazing son and brother and friend and everyone in his team looks up to him because he’s _Chan_ , and not because his dad’s rich and his grandpa’s a baseball legend – but nothing comes out in that moment.

In a deep, ugly part of him, Woojin’s afraid that Chan’s right. Why else would he not want even Jihyo to know they were together?

“I actually was going to ask you out,” Chan says scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “To celebrate.”

“Oh.” Woojin wishes he didn’t sound so cold and insincere. “We could still – I mean, if you still want to go?”

“Do you?” Chan asks.

Woojin thinks about it, then he realizes that the fact he even had to think about it was just awful.

“I do,” Woojin says, hoping he’s not too late. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay. Let’s go.” Chan gives Woojin a sort-of smile. He holds out his hand, then laughs nervously at himself and tucks his hand into his pocket.

Woojin feels like a crappy person. “Chan…”

“Come on.” Chan shrugs again, that half-hearted, self-deprecating shrug that’s really getting to Woojin. “Do you have your bus card?”

Woojin chews on his lip. “No.”

“It’s okay, you can just pay me back.” Chan turns to walk towards the nearest bus stop.

Woojin shuts his eyes and sighs. “Chan, stop.”

“What?”

Woojin reaches out and slips his hand into Chan’s pocket, taking Chan’s hand in his. Chan’s startled for a moment, but it’s only a moment, and he twines his fingers with Woojin’s, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Sorry for being a jerk.” Woojin says quietly, feeling a little guilty at how good he feels just holding Chan’s hand.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Chan gives Woojin’s hand a quick squeeze. “You can pay for our date.”

Woojin laughs. “I would’ve anyway, you know that.”

 

Chan holds Woojin’s hand until his palm is sweaty and he has to wipe it on his jeans, which happens every ten minutes or so.

Chan opens the door to the café with his free, not-holding-Woojin hand. “After you.”

“Sure.” Woojin rolls his eyes at Chan, though he’s smiling.

Chan’s about to come up with something witty to say – that takes effort and time around Woojin – when Woojin suddenly lets go of his hand. “Woojin?”

Chan follows Woojin’s line of sight to the table nearest them. He’s a little confused at first, because it makes sense for Jisung to be in his aunt’s café and Minho to be working there, and for Changbin to be with them, and maybe Hyunjin and Felix, but the other Bears are there, too.

“What are you guys doing?” Woojin asks them before Chan gets the chance to.

The boys all look at each other nervously.

“Just hanging out, ha _ha_!” Jisung says, laughing a bit too hard.

“Just bros being bros!” Changbin adds.

“Just a bunch of dudes totally not talking about you.” Hyunjin says.

Everyone at the table, including Minho who’s waiting the next table, gives Hyunjin a very _Are you for real_ look.

Woojin frowns. “What about me?”

Nobody says anything. They’re all just looking at each other, and it’s making Chan feel uneasy.

“Oh please.” Minho says, coming back to their table. He tucks his notepad back into his apron. “They’re just talking about the NC Tech case.”

Chan notices the way Woojin’s back stiffens up.

“What of it?” Woojin asks.

“Your dad.” Minho says.

Chan wishes Minho would just say things outright and not be like _that_. He’s confused, and he’s still hurt that Woojin had dropped his hand without warning, and there’s just no space in his heart or brain for cryptic conversations.

Woojin’s tapping Chan on the arm. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Jeongin stands up. “Did you know about it?”

Woojin’s already turned to leave, but he says, “Yes.”

Jeongin’s shoulders sag. “Hyung…”

“Chan, let’s go somewhere else.”

Chan looks from Woojin, who won’t meet his eyes, to Jeongin, who looks ready to cry, to Jisung and Changbin, whose teeth are clenched so tightly it’s clear that they’re not planning to say anything anytime soon.

“It’s not right.” Felix says suddenly. “What your dad did.”

Woojin spins around to glare at him. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Hyung, he didn’t mean it like that-”

“You can go try telling him if you want,” Woojin’s voice is gravelly and strained. “Because nothing I say gets through to him anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Felix says.

“Then you shouldn’t have said anything.” Minho says.

“He just said, he didn’t know.” Changbin frowns at Minho.

“Let the kid stand up for himself.” Jisung says, holding one of Changbin’s arms.

“You two are fucking insufferable.” Changbin grumbles.

“Oh, you haven’t _seen_ insufferable,” Minho lowers the water pitcher threateningly.

“Come on, don’t start anything.” Seungmin groans.

“We have bigger problems.” Hyunjin says.

“As if we can do anything about them.” Jeongin snaps.

“It’s _your family_ ’s fault-”

“They’re not my family!”

“And yet you benefit from-!”

“Shut up!”

Chan’s about to ask everyone to stop arguing, knowing full well that’s he’s a bit late, when the door to the café’s kitchen slams shut.

A bigger, angrier version of Jisung – Chan assumes it must be Jisung’s uncle that he’s so afraid of – stomps over.

“Han Jisung!” He shouts, and the entire table falls silent. _Yup. The guy is scary._

Jisung scowls. “What do you want, Uncle?”

“Where were you last Friday?”

Six different pairs of eyes look anxiously at Jisung.

“At school, why?”

“Then why,” Jisung’s uncle says, holding out his phone. “Did the school email me to ask why you weren’t in school?”

Jisung’s entire face goes pale. “B- Because I forgot my ID so I wasn’t able to do the time-in thing-”

“Bullshit.” Jisung’s uncle slams his phone on the table, making everyone jump. “What were you doing?” He looks at the other boys at the table. “Did you all know about this?”

They look away guiltily.

“There’s no need to make a big deal of it in front of the customers, Uncle,” Minho says, standing between Jisung and his uncle, pretending to mop up a spill on the table. “It was just one day, and he won’t do it again-”

“Get back to work before I fire you.” Jisung’s uncle says. “And it’s _Mr. Kang_ to you. I’m not your uncle.”

Minho bites his lips shut and heads back to the counter.

Chan’s realized, at this point, that Woojin’s already left the café, but he couldn’t just leave his teammates – no, his _friends_ like this. He wishes he could multiply himself so one of him can stay here and comfort his friends, and another can stop them from fighting each other, and another can try talking to Jisung’s uncle, and yet another can find Woojin and try to fix things between them.

Chan sinks into the nearest empty seat with a deep sigh.

 

Woojin doesn’t know why he just walked out of the café, but he’s glad he did.

And, at the same time, he has no idea where he is exactly or where he’s going.

“Hey.” Someone barks at him, making him jump.

Woojin whirls around and holds his hands up in a desperate attempt at self-defence, his eyes screwed shut.

His supposed attacker laughs. “Can’t really do anything to you right now, Woojin.”

Woojin peeks one eye open. “C- Coach Park?”

“I’m not a coach anymore,” Jinyoung says, both arms full of bags of groceries. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“You can’t just wander around here crying-”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Jinyoung smirks. “You can’t just run around here crying and expect not to be mugged.”

Woojin rubs at his eyes with the edge of his blazer. “I’m not crying.”

“Okay, okay, fine. You’re not.” Jinyoung huffs as he adjusts the slipping grocery bags in his arms. “Could you make yourself useful and help me out with these?”

 

Jinyoung grins to himself as watches Woojin look around their apartment like he’s at a theme park. The kid’s looking at every doorway and crack in the wall and stain on the ceiling like he’s never seen one before. He catches Jinyoung looking his way and lowers his head quickly.

_Cute_. Jinyoung thinks, lowering the grocery bags in his arms onto the kitchen counter. “Just put them down here.”

“Ok.” Woojin puts them down as gently as if they were full of nothing but eggs.

“Heads up.” Jinyoung pulls something out of one of the bags and tosses it in Woojin’s direction.

Woojin’s left hand shoots out and catches it. _The kid doesn’t even blink._ Jinyoung smiles.

Jinyoung’s smile only grows wider when Woojin frowns at the little plastic packet in his hand.

“Surely they have gummy worms where you’re from,” Jinyoung says, feeling at bit weird when Woojin stares at the pack of gummies for far too long.

“Sorry, I don’t eat refined sugar.” Woojin tries to hand the gummy worms back, but Jinyoung shoves them back.

“Don’t worry, there’s no refined sugar in there.” Jinyoung says, dumping some frozen fish gracelessly into the freezer. “Just high fructose corn syrup.”

“That’s _worse_!” Woojin says, dropping the gummy worm pack on the table like it’s on fire. He perches on one of the stools by the counter, folding his arms.

Jinyoung just shrugs and keeps putting the groceries away. “You gonna tell me why you were crying awhile ago?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Uh-huh.” Jinyoung shuts the freezer and gives Woojin one long, skeptical look.

Woojin pouts and picks up at the pack of gummy worms again, squishing it between his fingers. “Why are you like this?”

“I’m an older brother, it’s my nature.” Jinyoung says, tossing a few containers of detergent under the sink. “So, what happened?”

Jinyoung keeps tucking the groceries away, waiting for Woojin to reply. He finishes putting everything away and looks up to find Woojin with half a gummy worm hanging out of his mouth and a look of pure concentration in his eyes while he slurps the worm like spaghetti.

_He’s like an alien._

“You’re supposed to bite it.” Jinyoung reaches for a gummy worm and takes a hard bite out of it.

“Oh.” Woojin bites down, then makes a face as he holds the other end of the gummy worm. “But then you have to _hold_ it… and then put it in your mouth…”

“Yeah, well, a few germs won’t kill you.” Jinyoung takes another bite out of his gummy worm.

“I wish they would.” Woojin sighs, holding his gummy worm daintily between two fingers.

Jinyoung pretends to rearrange some of the papers and bills strewn across the counter, but he takes a peek at Woojin’s sullen reflection in the microwave. “Things are that bad, huh?”

“Sorry.” Woojin bites his gummy worm again. “Your problems are probably worse than mine.”

Jinyoung drags another chair over and sits down. “Try me.”

“It’s Chan.” Woojin frowns. “No, it’s not Chan, you know Chan, he’s virtually perfect-”

“No, he’s not.” Jinyoung snorts.

“Well, I’m way less perfect than he is.” Woojin says.

“You know,” Jinyoung shrugs. “He thinks _you’re_ the perfect one.”

“What?”

“He was complaining to me about you before.” Jinyoung smiles at the memory. “He said you were so – and I quote – _“smart, handsome, talented, rich, and cool”_ that it was pissing him off.”

Woojin almost laughs, but he pulls his mouth into a frown again. “He’s an idiot.”

“You literally just called him perfect a few seconds ago.” Jinyoung reaches for another gummy worm. “Make up your mind.”

Woojin’s got one gummy worm clamped between his teeth, and he’s just tugging on the other end absentmindedly.

“Did you two fight?” Jinyoung asks. He’s not sure when he became the kind of person who invites random high schoolers into his house for candy – _No, that sounds extremely wrong._

“Not really.” Woojin tugs on the gummy worm again. “I guess I’m just scared.”

“What of?”

“I wish my family weren’t the way they are.” Woojin heaves a sigh.

“What? _Rich_?” Jinyoung snorts. He wishes he could be even just half as rich as Woojin is, but he’s not about to mention that right now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful for all the stuff my parents get for me,” Woojin says, grimacing at himself. “But I wish they didn’t – I sound like an asshole, don’t I?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Jinyoung nods. “Actually, a _lot_ bit.”

“I just can’t stop thinking about…” Woojin bites dow thoughtfully on his gummy worm, leaving the sentence hanging.

“Thinking about what?” Jinyoung presses on, because he hates it when people do that.

“My aunt got kicked out for getting pregnant.” Woojin says, and he frowns at himself, like he’s not sure why he’s saying this to Jinyoung. Jinyoung’s not sure why he’s listening, either. “Do you remember Jeongin’s mom?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s pretty ho-” Jinyoung catches himself. _She’s his_ aunt _, for fuck’s sake._ “-hospitable.”

Woojin blinks at him judgingly. “Ok.”

“Are you worried they’ll kick _you_ out if they find out about Chan?” Jinyoung asks.

“Actually,” Woojin smiles dryly. “I’m more worried about Chan. Is that weird?”

“Not at all.” Jinyoung doesn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that about someone else, but he figures it must’ve happened at some point in his life. “I’m always more worried for Hyunjin than myself.”

Woojin’s eyebrows lift. “Really?”

“Why, do I seem like a callous bitch to you?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Woojin snickers.

Jinyoung tries to put on a scowl, but he ends up smiling along with Woojin. He drags the bag of gummy worms away from Woojin. “Can’t believe I _fed_ you ungrateful brat.”

“This isn’t anywhere near _food_.” Woojin says, wagging his gummy worm.

“Brat.” Jinyoung says again, taking two gummy worms out for himself. “Listen, brat, it’s good to be worried about Chan, but you don’t let that get in the way of you actually spending time together.”

Woojin freezes, narrowing his eyes at Jinyoung. “How do you know-”

“Telepathy.” Jinyoung grins, wiggling his fingers. When Woojin rolls his eyes, Jinyoung throws a gummy worm at him. “Don’t question me! I’m older and wiser than you, just take it.”

“Sure, sure,” Woojin laughs as he plucks the gummy worm out of his hair. “So your old and wise advice is for me to just go on dating Chan and not worry about my family?”

“Yeah.” Jinyoung has this prickly feeling at the back of his neck, like he’s got a conscience somewhere telling him this is bad advice. He forms his hand into a Y. “Yolo, and all that.”

Woojin makes a face. “You _are_ old.”

“What?”

“Nobody says ‘yolo’ anymore.”

Jinyoung sits up straighter, affronted. “Then what the fuck do kids say when they _yolo_ things?”

“I don’t actually know,” Woojin shrugs violently. “Uh, _yeet_?”

Jinyoung snorts, almost choking on a gummy worm. Then Woojin laughs at him, and Jinyoung starts laughing, too. And coughing. Jinyoung coughs and sputters for air. _Maybe I’m actually choking_ , he thinks, as Woojin starts clapping him on the back, _hard_.

Jinyoung eventually coughs up the bit of gummy worm and tosses it in the trash. He pours himself the glass of water and leans against the refrigerator as he drinks it, exhausted from almost exiting this world in such an undignified way.

“You know,” Woojin says, once it’s clear that Jinyoung’s not dying after all. “You’re actually a really good coach.”

Jinyoung looks up at the dumb teenager who’d probably had gummy worms for the first time in his entire life. If Woojin had said that to him a couple months ago, Jinyoung would’ve called for an ambulance. He tries to keep his smile in check.

“I’m going to ignore that ‘ _actually_ ’,” Jinyoung says. “But yeah, I know.”

 

“I can’t believe you really thought you could change the federation’s mind with _evidence_ ,” Jisung’s uncle says, nursing a cup of coffee between Chan and Hyunjin. “Or that you’d actually be able to get evidence to begin with.”

Jisung, for once, bites down on his tongue. He’s glad his uncle’s calmed down a little bit, but he’s still afraid that the guy’s going to just _combust_ once all the other guys leave. He looks over at Minho, who’s still feverishly working the espresso machine like his life depends on it, never looking up even once in the past half hour. Jisung sighs. _I’m going to kiss the living daylights out of him when he gets off this shift._

“We had to _try_.” Changbin says.

“No offense, but it was a dumb try.” Jisung’s uncle takes a sip of coffee. “The federation’s like any other. It listens to money.”

“It sucks.” Felix mutters.

“But it’s good for you guys, at least,” Seungmin pats Felix on the arm. “If NC Tech gets disqualified.”

“There’s no way the federation’s going to do something that drastic. They’ll probably just fine the team but let them play on anyway,” Jisung’s uncle sighs.

“You were in high school ages ago, Uncle. Maybe things are different now.” Jisung offers.

“Don’t push your luck, Jisung, I’m still pissed at you.” Jisung’s uncle flicks a spare coffee stirrer at Jisung, who tries ducking into Hyunjin.

Hyunjin shrugs him off like he’s an ant on his shoulder. “Don’t bring me into this.”

The door to the café opens with a little chime.

“Oh. Hyung!” Hyunjin gets up, letting Jisung slide down to the floor. “Didn’t I text that I was gonna walk home?”

“Yeah, you did.” Jinyoung looks a little embarrassed.

Jisung’s uncle leans back in his seat. “Hey Jinyoung. Here to steal all my equipment again?”

“I was borrowing it,” Jinyoung says firmly. “And it was for your nephew anyway-”

He must notice that Jisung’s been doing the hand-chopping-off-my-head sign, the universal signal for _SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE_.

“And did you also tell my nephew it was a good idea to skip school last Friday to investigate NC Tech?”

Jinyoung looks down at Jisung, nostrils flaring. “He did _what_?”

“Here we go again.” Jisung groans.

“It was my idea.”

Jisung and the rest of the table frown at Chan. It’s so like him to take the blame for dumb shit that he, Jisung, had thought of, but even so, Chan’s been acting pretty weird. He hasn’t been saying much since he’d gotten there, and _everyone_ had noticed the weird way that Woojin had slipped out while they were all distracted and Chan hadn’t said anything about that. Jisung’s worried that they might be fighting, and that he’s going to have to pick a fight with Woojin for hurting Chan. _I’d die. I wouldn’t just lose to Woojin, I would literally_ die _._

“ _Your_ idea?” Jinyoung asks, the doubt on his face perfectly understandable.

“Yes.” Chan says. “It was a dumb idea, and I’m sorry.”

Jinyoung stands there looking like he’d just stuck a fork into an electrical outlet. _Jisung, stop with the weird metaphors. They’re never gonna work._

“Hyung, let’s go.” Hyunjin says, picking up his bag.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung nods slowly. “Actually, I came here to tell you guys something. I got an email from the federation. I think their mailing list’s not up-to-date.”

“If it’s anything like their website…” Seungmin grumbles.

“What did they say, Coach?” Changbin asks.

“NC Tech have been disqualified from the finals.” Jinyoung says gravely.

Jisung stands up, knocking his chair over. “ _What_?”

Changbin looks like a weird chopsuey of giddy, confused, and terrified. “Really?”

Chan frowns at Jinyoung. “You mean _we_ …”

“Yeah.” Jinyoung says, and a smile break across his face then. “You’re going to the finals.”

Jisung promptly starts hyperventilating.


	45. Playing It Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honestly,” Chan runs a hand through his hair. “You refuse to hold my hand for a while, then suddenly you’re like this.”
> 
> “I told you I was gonna make up for it.”
> 
> “Yeah, well,” Chan grins. “You’re really an overachiever.” 
> 
> “Shut up.” Woojin slides his hands under Chan’s ass to lift him up on a shelf so their faces are level.
> 
> “If we knock this shelf over…” Chan says, but he wraps his legs around Woojin’s waist. 
> 
> Woojin leans closer, until their noses brush against each other. “Wanna try?”

_Monday_

“I’m going to go fetch my brother now.” Jinyoung reaches for his jacket thrown over the couch. “Are you going back to the café?”

“No.” Woojin says. “I’ll just take a taxi home.”

“Ok.” Jinyoung says. “When you go out, take a left. There are a lot of taxis on the main road.”

“Thanks.”

 

Woojin thanks the cab driver and turns back to the gate of his house. Two of the security personnel have already stepped out, and they’re giving Woojin strange looks.

He walks into the house and finds his mother scolding one of the maids. Woojin doesn’t know her name, but he knows she’s fairly new.

“Do you even know how much those shoes cost?” Woojin’s mother snaps. “You should take better care of my-”

“Hello, Mom.” Woojin cuts in, kissing his mom on the cheek.

“Oh, ah, hello, Woojin-dear,” His mother says, lagging for a moment as she switches to her gentle, soft-spoken self. “How was school today?”

“Fine.” Woojin glances at the maid, and then looks pointedly at the hallway to say, _Go_. “I got an English exam back. 49/50.”

“Why isn’t it perfect?” Woojin’s mom asks, and as she turns to face Woojin, the maid darts off down the hallway, thanking Woojin silently.

“I just mixed up two words.” Woojin says.

“Well, that’s a waste.” Woojin’s mom frowns. “You can do better next time.”

“Woojin?”

Woojin flinches when he hears his father’s voice. He can still see the others guys’ faces when they were talking about his father bribing the federation. Woojin had always known that the things his dad did were downright disgusting at best, but he’s never had enough friends to really see the way other people think about them.

 _Are they really_ my _friends? They’re just Chan’s friends._

“Yes, Father?”

“Can I speak to you in my office?” Woojin’s father asks, already walking towards his home office.

Woojin looks back at his mom to see if she’s going to give anything away, but she seems as confused as he is. “Can I change out of my uniform first?”

“It’ll only be a minute. Hurry up.”

 

“Why are you home so late? Where have you been?” Woojin’s father asks, his back turned to Woojin as he stacks up folders scattered on his hardwood desk.

Woojin’s glad he can’t see his face. “I was studying with Jihyo,” He says without missing a beat.

Woojin’s father chuckles then. “And how is Miss Jihyo?”

“Still talking too much.” Woojin says. _It’s not entirely untrue._

“And yet…” Woojin’s father laughs again as he takes a seat behind his desk. “Have a seat, Woojin.”

“I thought this would only take a minute.” Woojin frowns, looking apprehensively at the leather seat across the desk from his father.

“I only said that to get your mother off my case. She thinks I’m too harsh with you.” Woojin’s father gestures at the seat across him. “Have a seat.”

Woojin finds himself sitting down obediently, like someone’s dragging his limbs against his will.

“Mr. Yoo from the federation called earlier.” Woojin’s father says. “NC Tech have been disqualified from the finals. Can you imagine?”

 _Don’t act so surprised, it’s_ your _fault,_ Woojin thinks, but he plasters on a mildly surprised expression. “Has that ever happened before?”

“No.” Woojin’s father almost smirks. “So the final match will be on the ninth, two weeks from now.”

Woojin wonders if the Weevils will be able to prepare for a finals game in two weeks.

“I know it’s going to be an easy win against… whatever the name of that other school is,” Woojin’s father says. “But you still have to do your best. The representatives from S-------- University will be watching the match.”

Woojin nods. “Yes, Father.”

“We’re so close, Woojin.” Woojin’s father smiles, and it scares Woojin, because it seems so _genuine_. Woojin has never seen his father smile like this, and it makes him feel a little sick to see it.

“I know, Father.”

“Be careful.”

Woojin frowns. “What of?”

“Don’t do anything that’ll jeopardize all our hard work.” Woojin’s father says, looking right into Woojin’s eyes.

 _Shit._ Woojin’s heart pounds against his chest. _He can’t possibly know about Chan. Did Mr. Lee tell him?_

Then Woojin’s father smiles again, that almost-friendly grin that makes him look disturbingly like Woojin. He claps Woojin on the arm. “Don’t spend _too_ much time alone with Miss Jihyo, all right?”

It takes Woojin a whole second to understand what he means. Woojin lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh. Oh yeah, sure. We’ll, uh, play it safe.”

“You’d better.”

 

_Tuesday_

Woojin pushes Chan against the nearest wall. He cups his hands around Chan’s face as he goes in for a hard, sloppy kiss. Chan jumps with a start, then he wraps his arms around Woojin’s waist, pulling him closer. Woojin misses Chan’s lips by a little bit, then leaves open-mouthed kisses down Chan’s jaw and further down to his neck, sucking lightly on Chan’s warm skin.

“Woojin,” Chan gasps, clutching Woojin’s arms like a drowning man. “Please stop.”

“Oh.” Woojin steps back, brushing Chan’s shoulders off timidly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not – I liked it. A _lot_.” Chan leans against the wall, still catching his breath. “It’s just…”

“What?” Woojin asks, eyes becoming round in concern.

“I can’t get hard in a _public library_.” Chan snickers.

“It’s not really public, though. There’s nobody here,” Woojin tilts his head down the empty aisle. The rest of the library is empty, too, except for the librarian, who seems to have noise-cancelling headphones on. _Thank god._

“Honestly,” Chan runs a hand through his hair. “You refuse to hold my hand for a while, then suddenly you’re like _this_.”

“I told you I was gonna make up for it.”

“Yeah, well,” Chan grins. “You’re really an overachiever.”        

“Shut up.” Woojin slides his hands under Chan’s ass to lift him up on a shelf so their faces are level.

“If we knock this shelf over…” Chan says, but he wraps his legs around Woojin’s waist.

Woojin leans closer, until their noses brush against each other. “Wanna try?”

 

_Wednesday_

“Cap.”

“Hey Cap!”

“Woojin-hyung!”

Woojin blinks, finding Jeongin waving his hands in his face. “What?”

“I said, I don’t know why Coach Park’s so threatened,” Jeongin whines, turning his arm around in its socket before taking a bite of his lunch. “I mean, I like the Weevils, but we’re _definitely_ going to win. He doesn’t need to train us this hard.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Woojin-hyung, can’t you talk to him?” Jeongin slumps dramatically into his omelette. “Pleeaaase?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Woojin frowns as he pokes the back of Jeongin’s head.

“Stop pushing us so hard, maybe.” Jeongin says, sitting up with bits of eggshell still hanging off his nose. “My body hurts so much.”

“Same.” Woojin says, his entire face going warm when he realizes he’d just said that.

“There isn’t gonna be any of me _left_ for the finals.” Jeongin groans, picking pieces of omelette off his nose. “Please do something.”

Woojin waves as Mr. Nakamoto drives off into the dimly lit street. He hops up the steps to the library, and he’s about to go inside when he notices a large lump beside the doors.

The lump is wearing gray sweats with specks of mud and dried-up dirt. Woojin sighs.

He squats next to the lump and pats it on the rump. “Hey.”

“Nngghh?”

“Chan,” Woojin says gently. “You wanna just go home today?”

Chan rolls over onto his back, laying on the paved patio outside the library. “Coach Im’s training us to death.”

“He’d _better_.” Woojin says, extending his hands to Chan. “Here, I’ll help you up.”

“Give me five minutes.” Chan mumbles.

Woojin sighs loudly as he stands up. “Maybe I’ll just go home today.”

Chan rolls on the floor and scrambles to his feet, stumbling around until his head bumps into Woojin’s stomach. “M’okay.”

Woojin combs his fingers through Chan’s hair, tilting Chan’s face up to look at it. Chan’s eyes are all puffy and tired, and his dark circles are as purple as a crayon. “No, you look like you should go home and rest.”

“Just hold me for five minutes, I’ll be fine.” Chan says, stumbling forward to bury his face in the crook of Woojin’s neck.

Woojin wraps his arms around Chan before looking around. Luckily, the library’s in a quiet part of the city, so Woojin can hold Chan for as long as he likes without any fear of getting caught.

But Woojin’s body is pretty beat up from training, and it starts to complain under Chan’s weight.

“Chan, I can’t carry you right now.” Woojin says, patting Chan’s butt lightly.

Chan only nuzzles in deeper, until his face is probably embossed into Woojin’s practice jersey. “Can you carry me home?”

“I _can’t_ ,” Woojin laughs, slapping Chan on the butt. “Stand up on your own.”

“Carry me.” Chan moans into Woojin’s shirt.

Woojin rolls his eyes, but he puts one arm around Chan while he calls Mr. Nakamoto with the other. “Yeah, we’ll just drop my friend off before we head home.”

Woojin holds Chan like that, just standing outside the public library like absolute fools, until Mr. Nakamoto arrives with the car.

“Let’s go.” Woojin says, trying to look down at Chan’s face. He hears a soft, muffled noise. _He’s snoring,_ Woojin realizes. _He’s fallen asleep standing up. Ridiculous._

“Do you need any… help with… _that_?” Mr. Nakamoto asks, coming up the stairs.

“Thanks, but could you just get his stuff?” Woojin nods over to the muddy heap in the corner. Mr. Nakamoto makes a face, but he goes and picks up Chan’s training bag and school bag with the tips of his fingers.

Woojin takes a deep breath, then reaches under Chan’s thighs to lift him up like a very, very big baby. Chan, like an overgrown baby, nestles his head on Woojin’s shoulder and continues snoring.

“God, you’re so heavy,” Woojin grunts as he makes his way to the car, patting Chan’s butt.

Chan mumbles something Woojin doesn’t understand. Then, without opening his eyes, he pecks Woojin on the cheek.

“Don’t make me drop you.”

 

_Thursday_

 “Woojin.”

Woojin stops in his tracks, wiping the silly smile off his face. _Stop thinking about Chan,_ he tries telling himself, but the more he does, the more he can’t. “Yes, Mom?”

His mom’s already taken all her makeup off, and she’d look like a normal mom if it hadn’t been for the floor-length silk dressing gown. “Where did you come from?”

“I was, uh,” Woojin realizes he’s carrying a textbook. “Studying with Jihyo.”

His mom’s shoulders seem to ease up then, but she frowns at the clock on the wall. “It’s _half past ten_! What does Jihyo’s mother think of you staying there so late?”

“We have big exams next week.”

“Goodness.” His mom shakes her head. “You study too much.”

“You get mad when I don’t get perfect scores, but also you get mad when I study harder, Mom, what do you want?”

“I want-” His mom rubs one eye, then realizes she’s removed some of her thousand-dollar cream and scowls at herself. “I want to know if you’re coming to the benefit dinner tomorrow.”

“No, I’m not.” Woojin says firmly. Chan had promised him some kind of surprise the next day – _“To pay you back for_ actually _carrying my entire ass,” Chan had said, looking embarrassed out of his mind. “You didn’t have to.”_

_“Yeah, I really didn’t.” Woojin had said, rubbing the Salonpas on his back pointedly._

“Surely you and Jihyo can take a break from studying on a _Friday_.” His mom grumbles.

“The coverage of the exam is from the beginning of the semester, Mom.” Woojin says. “It’s a lot.”

_I’m not lying, technically. But the exams aren’t for another few weeks._

“Suit yourself.” Woojin’s mom turns around groggily, looking for the stairs. “So, you’re not coming tomorrow?”

“No, Mom, I’m not.”

 

_Friday_

 

“Word of advice,” Minho says, catching Woojin by the sleeve in the hallway. “Buy some makeup in _your_ color.”

Woojin frowns at him. “What the hell-”

Minho covers one hand with the edge of his hoodie and gives Woojin’s neck a rough swipe.

“Hey!” Woojin snaps at him, watching the fair flesh-toned color rub off on Minho’s sleeve. It _is_ a little lighter than his skin tone, but he’d checked himself in the mirror before going to school, and it hadn’t seemed _that_ obvious to him. _Trust Minho to make a big deal out of something that small._

“Damn,” Minho snickers, pushing Woojin’s chin out of the way to look at his neck. “It’s worse than I’d thought.”

“Get off.” Woojin shrugs Minho off, pulling his phone out to check his reflection. Minho had rubbed nearly everything off, leaving the deep purple mark on his neck out in the open for every-fucking-one to see. Woojin turns when some of their other schoolmates walk past, pretending to rub the back of his head so his arm can block the view of his goddamn neck.

“I’d lend you mine, but the color’s even further off.” Minho says.

“Screw you.” Woojin says, tugging his collar up to try to cover his neck up, though he knows it’s pointless.

“I think I’ve got an emergency turtleneck in my locker.” Minho offers.

“I am _not_ wearing something that’s been rotting away in your locker for-”

“Good luck getting through homeroom with _that_.” Minho says, giving Woojin’s neck a little flick.

Woojin takes a deep breath, glaring at Minho. _Am I going to murder someone today?_

_Damn it, Minho._

“Give me the goddamn turtleneck.” Woojin grumbles.

 

“That’s a cute sweater.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “It’s Minho’s.”

“That explains a lot. Actually, no it doesn’t.” Chan cocks his head to one side. “Why do you have Minho’s sweater?”

Woojin narrows his eyes and tugs the collar down to reveal the dark bruise. “Why do you _think_?”

“Oh.” Chan’s entire face goes pink. “Sorry.”

Woojin tugs at the fuzzy pink sweater. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the ridiculous amount of fluff and fuzz on it, or if it’s an issue of cleanliness, but Minho’s stupid baby pink turtleneck has been making him itch _all_ day. _It’s not like I can take it off, though._

He’d only taken it off for training, where he’d worn underarmor that went nearly to his chin.

_“Is it cold?” Jeongin had asked._

_“What?”_

_“Are you feeling cold, hyung?” Jeongin had reached over and tugged at Woojin’s collar. Then Jeongin’s face had gone pale. “What is_ that _?”_

Oh crap. _Woojin had tugged his collar all the way up his neck. “It’s nothing.”_

_Jeongin had looked like he was about to cry. “What happened?”_

_“I slipped in the shower, it’s nothing.”_

_“Did somebody do that to you?” Jeongin had reached out ad tugged Woojin’s collar down again, his frown growing deeper and deeper. “Who did that to you?”_

_“_ Gravity _did it to me, Jeongin, I slipped.” Woojin had insisted, leaning out of Jeongin’s reach and pulling his collar up again._

_“Does it hurt?”_

_“No, and if you don’t go back over there and throw the ball, I’m going to-” Woojin had caught himself._ What were you going to say, dumbass? _“Go get the ball, Jeongin.”_

_“Okay.” Jeongin had said, but he still hadn’t looked convinced._

Woojin notices that Chan’s still staring at the sweater. “You said to dress _presentable_ , I don’t think walking around with my neck looking like someone had strangled me is _presentable_. Where are we going anyway?”

“Uh…Sorry…” Chan grimaces, his eyes pinching into nervous crescents. “About that…”

 

“Chan, please promise me something.” Woojin says, frowning out the car window as they turn onto a familiar street. His hands are starting to go from sweaty to _very_ sweaty, and he has to let go of Chan’s hand to wipe it on his jeans.

“You can just pull over here, Mr. Nakamoto, I’m not sure if this car will fit in the street,” Chan says, stll avoiding Woojin’s eyes.

“No, it definitely won’t.” Mr. Nakamoto says, pulling the Range Rover over by the entrance to a narrow, dim street no wider than an ordinary alley.

“Bang Chan.” Woojin says tensely, grabbing Chan by the arm when the latter reaches to unclip his seatbelt.

“Y- Yeah?”

“Promise me you will _never_ try to surprise me with _anything_ again.”

“I- Is it _that_ bad?” Chan stammers, unclipping Woojin’s seatbelt slowly.

“Chan, you can’t just _jump_ people with sudden invitations to-”

“But you’ve been here before-”

“But not for _dinner_ -”

“Have a great evening, you two.” Mr. Nakamoto says.

Woojin leans on the chauffeur’s seat and gives him a pleading look. “Please don’t leave.”

“Have. A. Great. Evening.” Mr. Nakamoto smirks, prying Woojin’s fingers off his seat. Woojin’s too panicked to be annoyed with him for enjoying this so much, but he makes a mental note to talk to Mr. Nakamoto _later_.

_But now…_

 

“Hi everyone,” Chan says, holding the front door open for Woojin.

Woojin stays frozen on the welcome mat, staring at Chan with one word echoing endlessly in his currently empty head. _Everyone. Everyone. Everyone._

“Wait, give us a minute, I think I left something outside.” Chan chuckles nervously, taking Woojin’s hand and stepping out of the apartment again. He probably feels how clammy Woojin’s hand is, and it’s not because of the weather. “Woojin, it’s gonna be okay. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s not _just_ dinner.” Woojin hisses back. “You don’t bring just anyone over for dinner with your entire family-”

“We’re going to let them assume you’re just another one of my friends-”

“Do you bring _Jisung and Changbin_ over for dinner?”

“Those guys? Hell no,” Chan laughs. “They’d shock my grandmas to death.”

 _Grandmas._ Woojin’s limbs are starting to go numb. _Grandma s. With an S. Plural. Many grandmothers._

“You’re going to be fine, Woojin.” Chan rubs Woojin’s shoulders and arms down like he’s a coach and Woojin’s about to walk into a boxing ring. Woojin’s panic rises. _My inner thoughts are starting to become heterosexual, goodness-_

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I love you, and I want the rest of my family to love you, too.” Chan says. _Like everything on this godforsaken planet is that simple._

Woojin has a very strong desire to lie down, close his eyes, and never move again. _Death, Woojin, that’s called death._ “What if they don’t?”

Chan gives Woojin’s arms one last rubdown. “Trust me, they will.”

_But what if they don’t?_

“Come on, my sisters are already obsessed with you,” Chan leans over and pecks Woojin on the cheek. “They won’t stop asking when Woojin-oppa’s coming back.”

“I guess I can’t let them down.” Woojin manages to say.

“No, I guess not.” Chan smiles.

 

“So, Woojin, where are you going for college?” Chan’s grandpa on Woojin’s left asks.

“Can somebody pass the beef for god’s sake?” Chan’s grandpa on Woojin’s right asks, in a much louder voice.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Chan’s grandma asks from across the table.

“You don’t, right?” Miya asks from the foldaway table she and Chan’s other younger siblings are seated at.

“What do your parents do?” Chan’s other grandma asks from the end of the table.

“Where is my sippy?” Chan’s brother asks from under the table.

“Are you boys ready for the finals?” Chan’s dad asks, earning a sharp jab from Chan’s mom.

“Why would you ask them that when they’re playing against each other?” Chan’s mom asks.

“You play baseball, too?” Chan’s uncle asks from the corner of the table (he’d arrived late).

“What school are you from, Woojin?” Chan’s other uncle asks, from where he’s getting soup in the kitchen.

“You can’t possibly _not_ have a girlfriend, right?” Chan’s great-aunt asks.

Woojin puts his spoon down – not that he’d touched his food much – and looks to Chan for help. He must look desperate as hell, because Chan swallows his food without chewing and clears his throat.  

“Gosh, guys, I didn’t bring him here to be _interrogated_ ,” Chan says, reaching for the plate of beef and handing it to his waiting grandfather.

“Oh, finally.” His grandfather sighs.

“Sorry, Woojin,” Chan’s mom says, patting Woojin on the arm. “We don’t see new faces here very often.”

Woojin wants nothing more than to join Chan’s younger brother under the table at this very moment. “It’s all right, ma’am.”

Chan’s mom blushes when he calls her that, and Woojin just wants to die.

“Let’s let the boy eat, he’s a _stick_.” Chan’s great-aunt says, pouting at Woojin’s frame.

“ _Everyone’s_ a stick to _you_ , dear sister,” Chan’s grandma says, prodding Chan’s great-aunt in the stomach with one finger.

“You’re not so slim yourself, you-”

“No one at this table is slim except the children.” Chan’s grandpa grumbles.

“Dad, please.” Chan’s mom frowns.

“It’s the truth.” Chan’s grandpa grabs a handful of his belly. “We’re all too well-fed.”

Woojin takes a sip of water to keep himself from laughing at the scandalized look on Chan’s mom’s face.

“So,” Chan’s other grandma points her spoon menacingly in Woojin’s direction. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Grandma, _please_.” Chan groans.

“What? I’m just curious.” Chan’s grandma waves her spoon at Woojin again, like a wizard would his wand. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Woojin feels someone kick his shin under the table, and he’s guessing it’s not Chan’s little brother. He looks at Chan again. _What was that supposed to mean?_

Chan’s eyes are wider than Woojin’s ever seen them. He shakes his head violently, flapping his mop of hair.

Woojin frowns at him. _What_?

“Woojin’s too busy to date.” Chan says through grated teeth. Woojin thinks he might’ve been trying to smile or something. “Right, Woojin?”

“Yeah. Too busy.” Woojin agrees without thinking.

Chan’s shoulders sag with relief, and he stuffs a heaping mound of beef into his mouth as celebration.

“Hold on a second,” Chan’s other uncle says, tapping his spoon thoughtfully against the rim of his bowl. “You’re _Kim_ Woojin, right?”

Woojin frowns at him. “Yes, why?”

“You play for the S---- High Bears?”

“Yes.” Woojin says, ignoring Chan’s frantic kicks to his shin. He shoots a dirty look in Chan’s direction to tell him to _Stop_. “Why?”

“You’re Kim Chil-hyun’s grandson?” Chan’s uncle asks, his eys wide.

Woojin had forgotten – _real dumb of you, Woojin_ – that Chan had mentioned his family are huge baseball fans. More importantly, he had forgotten – _this is the TRULY dumb one_ – about his grandfather.

“Yes,” Woojin says quietly. “I am.”

Both of Chan’s grandpas sputter into their food, Chan’s uncles gape at Woojin, and Chan’s dad chokes on a piece of sparerib. Chan heaves a very, very long sigh.

 “Why didn’t you tell me he was _Kim Chil-hyun’s grandson_???” Chan’s dad coughs out, still choking on a sparerib. Chan’s other uncle is clapping him on the back, but his jaw’s still dropped on the floor somewhere.

“Because it didn’t matter, Dad.” Chan groans.

“It _does_ matter!” Chan’s grandpa barks at him.

“Honey.” Chan’s grandma gives him a stern look. “Don’t raise your voice.”

“Kim Chil-hyun is a _legend_.” One of Chan’s uncles says in a dreamy, distant voice.

“He’s not any legend.” Chan’s other grandpa snaps. “He’s _the_ legend.”

“We’re big fans of your grandfather.” Chan’s other uncle says, reaching out to shake Woojin’s hand suddenly.

“Everyone, _please_.” Chan says, easing his uncle’s sweaty hand off Woojin’s and reaching out to close his other uncle’s mouth. “Don’t be weird.”

“It’s too late,” Miya says from the next table. She grimaces at Woojin. “I’m so sorry.”

Woojin opens his mouth to say that it’s okay, but he’s interrupted by both of Chan’s grandmas holding dishes out to him at the same time asking, “Would you like some more, Woojin?”

“No, thank you.” Woojin says, doing the only thing he can do: Kick Chan in the shins under the table.

 

Woojin’s mother shifts slightly, wondering whether her spanx are too tight. _Doesn’t matter,_ she thinks, plastering a vacant smile on her face. _As long as the photos come out nicely._

“Come here!” Her husband says, waving lazily to call her over.

She tries not to groan, keeping her smile up as she walks over as gracefully as she can without breathing.

“Yes, dear?” She looks from her husband to the couple he’s talking to. It might be Senator Sung and his wife, or some other woman – at this point Woojin’s mother isn’t sure what Senator Sung’s wife looks like these days.

“Don’t you look lovely,” The woman – whoever she may be – says to Woojin’s mother.

“Thank you.” Woojin’s mother says in return. “You look beautiful tonight as well.” _Whoever you are._

“You remember Senator Sung and his wife, of course,” Woojin’s father says, gesturing at the other couple. It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Of course,” Woojin’s mother says.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the situation in the universities these days is dismal…” Senator Sung says, leading Woojin’s father off to one side.

Woojin’s mother has no choice but to smile at the senator’s wife. _It_ is _her,_ she thinks, _though you’d never notice with all the work she’s had done._

“Is your son with you?” The senator’s wife asks.

 _Why do you care?... Oh._ Woojin’s mother tries not to make a face when the woman calls a younger, much skinnier version of her over.

“This is my daughter, Jiyeon.” The woman pats her daughter’s bare shoulders. “I thought I’d like to introduce them.”

If Woojin’s mother were to be 100% honest with herself, she’d have to admit that Senator Sung’s daughter is actually quite pretty, but if she looks like her mother and her mother no longer looks like herself, then… Woojin’s mother grimaces.

“I’m sorry, my son’s out studying with his girlfriend.” Woojin’s mother says as coldly as she can. “They have important exams coming up-”

“And who is his girlfriend?” The woman, presumably Senator Sung’s wife, cuts in.

“Mom,” Jiyeon frowns. _She’s even pretty when she frowns. They must know a really good surgeon,_ Woojin’s mother notes, before mentally filing it into the trash.

“Park Jihyo, my good friend’s daughter-”

“ _That_ Park Jihyo?” The woman says, pointing at someone behind Woojin’s mother.

Woojin’s mother turns around, trying very hard not to grunt at the pressure from her dress’s waistline. She squints – she doesn’t have her glasses with her, _of course_ – at three blurry figures coming up the steps to the hotel ballroom.

“Hello Auntie!” The smallest figure darts up the last few steps, coming into view.

Woojin’s mother frowns. “Jihyo?”

“Good evening, Auntie,” Jihyo says, looping her arm around Woojin’s mother’s. “Where’s Woojin sulking at now?”

“He’s studying with _you_ somewhere, _apparently_.” Senator Sung’s wife says, before taking her daughter by the arm and walking off into the ballroom.

“Wha-” Jihyo straightens her face out when she notices Woojin’s mother staring at her expectantly. “Oh, Auntie, you see, I canceled on Woojin last minute, and I thought he’d end up going here too…”

Woojin’s mother loves Jihyo, she really does, and she’s always been jealous of her best friend for having a daughter like Jihyo. Not, of course, that she doesn’t love her son, but Jihyo’s much easier for Woojin’s mother to understand. Which is why she knows when Jihyo isn’t exactly telling the truth.

“Jihyo, dear,” Woojin’s mother says, letting her smile vanish for the first time that evening. “Where is Woojin?”

“He might be at home, studying? Or- _Or_ his training might’ve gone overtime, Coach Park has really been running them into the ground for their finals match-”

“Jihyo, please answer me honestly.” Woojin’s mother says, her patience growing thin even for Jihyo. “Where is he?”

Jihyo’s lip trembles. “I don’t know, Auntie.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Auntie, I really don’t know. I’m sorry.” Jihyo lowers her head, her blown-out curls drooping along with it.

Woojin’s mother looks at Jihyo for a moment, hoping the girl doesn’t see how sad she feels. Jihyo would move heaven and earth for Woojin, she’d lie to his mother’s face to protect him… Woojin’s mother only wishes that her son would feel the same way about anyone.

 

Chan has to physically – well, gently, but still _physically_ stop his grandmothers from giving Woojin his weight in food to bring home. “They have a two-floor kitchen, Grandma, he doesn’t need more food.”

“Chan,” Woojin whispers, tugging on Chan’s sleeve. “The pickled radish.”

Chan nods aggressively and takes the container of pickled radish from one of his grandmas. “We’ll take this one, thanks.”

The grandma who’d made the pickled radish beams, gloating her win over the other grandma. Chan resists the urge to sigh. _I’m never gonna hear the end of this._

He closes the front door gently, smiling when he hears Woojin sigh dramatically and hit the wall with an audible slap.

“Congratulations,” Chan wraps his arms around Woojin.

“What for?” Woojin says, leaning back to rest his head against Chan’s.

Chan kisses Woojin on the cheek. “My family loves you. Isn’t that a win?”

“For once in my life, I’m glad to be my grandfather’s grandson.”

“This is the _first_ time?”

“The _very_ first.”

Chan scrunches up his nose. “Yikes.”

“Tell me about it… Hold on.” Woojin breaks out of Chan’s embrace and punches him on the arm. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Chan knows Woojin had just been messing around, but Woojin’s strong as hell and Chan’s arm _hurts_. “Kn- knew what?”

“That your family would be… like _that_ if they found out about my grandad.” Woojin narrows his eyes at Chan. “That’s why you were so chill about everything, right?”

Chan doesn’t know how to say he’d done _everything_ he could to keep it a secret _because_ he knew they’d all freak out if they knew. “Aw, come on, you know I wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

Woojin rolls his eyes, but he says, “I know.”

“Okay, I think we’ve kept Mr. Nakamoto waiting long enough,” Chan twines his fingers in with Woojin’s and starts for the stairs.

“Wait, I don’t want to go home yet.”

Chan tries to tug Woojin towards the stairs, but the latter just pouts at him, rooted to the spot like a tree. Chan might be able to deadlift all of his siblings in one go, but he’s a weak person. He can’t say no to Woojin looking at him like that.

“Woojin-”

Chan never gets to finish his sentence or even remember it, because Woojin practically jumps into his arms, giving Chan’s lower lip a hard suck rather than a kiss.

Chan, despite his last two horny brain cells telling him otherwise, breaks away. “Mr. Nakamoto’s waiting.”

“My parents won’t be home for a couple of hours.” Woojin says, with this glint in his eyes that makes Chan swallow, _hard_. “Come home with-”

“We can’t risk it.”

“I want to.” Woojin says, and he sets his jaw in that way that really used to piss Chan off. “Mr. Nakamoto can bring you back home again-”

“Woojin.” Chan says, though his resolve is so weak it’s hanging on by a thread at this point. “We can’t.”

“Please?”

Chan shuts his eyes. He knows, for a fact, that he shouldn’t do this. Usually that’s enough. Literally every other time, that’s been enough.

 _It’s because you’re a good boy, Chan. You’re_ that _good boy._

Chan lets go of Woojin’s hand and goes back to the front door of his house, getting ahold of the doorknob. He can see, out of the corner of his eye, Woojin’s shoulders sag dejectedly.

Chan opens the door. “Mama! Woojin and I are going out for coffee then I’m dropping him off at home! I’ll bring keys with me! Don’t wait up!”

He turns back to find Woojin similing so widely that Chan would do _anything_ to keep him that happy.

 

“This is a bad idea.” Mr. Nakamoto says, refusing to start the car.

“Please?” Woojin leans on the backrest of the chauffeur’s seat. “I promise you won’t get in any trouble if-”

“Do you think Mr. Lee or I really care about _us_ getting in trouble?”

Woojin crosses his arms and flops back into his seat with a huff.

Chan leans forward. “Mr. Nakamoto?”

The chauffeur gives Chan a wary look. “Yes?”

“I understand why you don’t want to let us do this,” Chan says, and Woojin turns to the window to hide his smile. Chan’s using his captain voice on Mr. Nakamoto. “But if you don’t drive us there, Woojin’s just going to take a taxi.”

Woojin catches Mr. Nakamoto’s affronted expression in the mirror.

“Mr. Lee isn’t going to let you into the house.”

“It’s not _his_ house.” Woojin says.

Chan gives Woojin’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t be such a brat, Woojin.”

Woojin shoots Chan a dirty look, but Mr. Nakamoto snorts as he starts the car up.

 

“Come on, come on, come on,” Jihyo mutters, her heels smacking on the marble floor of the balcony as she paces back and forth, staring at her phone. “Pick up, Woojin.”

“What’d Woojin do now?” One of her other friends asks, walking up to Jihyo with two canapes pilfered from the event. “Want a salmon thingy?”

“No thanks.” Jihyo says, surprising herself. She has a strong urge to throw her phone over the rail when she gets the message that Woojin’s phone is unreachable. “Son of a bitch!”

“Speaking of,” Jihyo’s friend nods towards the French windows into the ballroom. “Looks like his mom is leaving.”

“Shit.” Jihyo looks at her friend, and in a panic, grabs the salmon thingy canape before making a mad dash for the door. “Auntie! Wait!”

 

Woojin knows that Mr. Lee is just through the door and he’s livid, and that he’s got keys to Woojin’s room (Nursery 1) and could barge in and throw Chan out at any time. Normally, he’d be panicking about that, but Chan’s just flopped onto Woojin’s bed, panting heavily. Too many of Woojin’s dreams are coming true for him to be worried about anything right now.

He crawls onto the bed, straddling Chan’s thighs. He feels Chan grow tense under him, and bends over to give him a kiss. “What do you want?” Woojin asks, teeth dragging on Chan’s lower lip.

“Off.” Chan whines, tugging at Woojin’s sweater – well, _Minho’s sweater_.

Woojin lifts his arms and lets Chan pull the sweater over his head, but they both hear something rip so loudly it echoes in Woojin’s room.

“Come on, Chan, it’s not mine,” Woojin laughs, pulling his shirt off while Chan throws the sweater aside.

“You can buy Minho a new one- Oh god,” Chan says, tracing the deep purple marks on Woojin’s neck and down his chest with the tips of his fingers. “I’m sorry about these.”

“No, you’re not.”

Chan grins. “You’re right, I’m not _really_.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try pretending to be-”

“Let’s make it even then,” Chan says, giving Woojin a heavy wink before starting to unbutton his shirt. It annoys Woojin that’s Chan’s so sure of himself, but the minute Chan’s shirt falls open, Woojin’s brain short-circuits and forgets to be annoyed. “Do whatever you want to me.” Chan says, and Woojin nods slowly.

Woojin doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops down on his elbows and presses his mouth to the soft, soft skin where Chan’s jaw and neck meet, dragging his lips across it. Then he rests his mouth near the top of Chan’s neck, out in the front where no shirt could possibly cover it, and sucks as hard as he can.

Chan groans out, grabbing Woojin by the shoulders.

Woojin drags his lips up to leave one light kiss just next to Chan’s mouth.

Chan cups one hand around the side of Woojin’s face, staring intently into his eyes in the dim light from Woojin’s bedside lamp. “I love you.”

“Calm down, Chan, we haven’t even had done _anything_ yet.” Woojin laughs, tilting his face away from Chan’s hand so Chan doesn’t feel how warm it is.

“I know, I know,” Chan laughs, and he’s so cute that Woojin _has_ to kiss him again. “I just wanted to say it. I love you."

Woojin can hardly breathe, with so much of his own skin against Chan’s. _How can one person be so warm? Does he have a fever? Do_ I _have a fever?_

He kisses Chan again, and pulls away slowly. Woojin’s never understood what people meant by “getting lost in someone’s eyes,” not until he finds himself staring into Chan’s. His mind, for the very first time in his life as far as he knows, draws completely blank. He’s not forgotten all of the things he ought to be worried about, but for this moment, he has this strange feeling of… _assurance? Like everything’s going to be okay_.

“I love you,” Chan says again, his eyes forming little crescents when he smiles.

Woojin smiles back. “I lo-”

With an almost inaudible click, the bedroom door swings open.

Woojin whirls around – his first instinct is to block Chan, and so he does, resting his arms on the edges of the bed. It’s with a strange sense of detachment, like he’s just sitting in a cinema watching a film, that he realizes that his father’s the one who'd opened the door. Woojin’s mother’s right behind him, and she has her hand to her mouth in shock, and Mr. Lee is behind her, still stammering out what Woojin figures must be excuses.

Woojin’s father’s still gripping the door handle, his knuckles going white and his face growing dark with anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the cruelest place to stop, but this fic's gonna be going on a pretty quick hiatus for ~1 month --- BUT WORRY NOT, I WILL BE RETURNING I SWEAR IT ON MY LIFE
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's been following the fic so far! 💕💕💕 Special shoutout to my one & only beta [imsokyoriosyeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/need2ficsmyhart/pseuds/imsokyoriosyeh) for putting up with the sheer amount of bullshit i spew out on the regular.
> 
> I might be on twitter [@halp_rice](https://twitter.com/halp_rice) in the meantime, so you can scream at me there until the next update rolls around
> 
> PEACE!  
> 


	46. The Aftermath Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jihyo all but drags Jeongin out into the hallway by the sleeve.
> 
> “W- What’s up?” Jeongin squeaks out, backing up against the nearest wall. 
> 
> “Woojin. Where is he?”
> 
> “Isn’t he _your_ classmate?” Jeongin frowns. 
> 
> “He’s not there.” Jihyo says tensely. “Do you know where he is?”
> 
> “No.” Jeongin’s frown only grows deeper. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
> 
> “He would’ve texted me if he were sick, so I could take notes for him.” Jihyo says. “He’s just not there, and he wasn’t at the benefit dinner on Friday, and he won’t pick up any of my texts or calls-”
> 
> “Oh no.” Jeongin’s eyes are starting to get watery.

Jihyo walks into the classroom on Monday, her eyes immediately darting to the seat third from the front, by the window.

It’s empty.

She doesn’t bother putting her bag down or responding to her classmates’ slightly confused greetings and “Are you okay”s. She leaves the room and starts down the hallway, glad that people are getting out of her way without her having to hurt them, at least.

“Yang Jeongin!” She shoves the door to Jeongin’s classroom open. She realizes that his homeroom teacher’s there, already checking attendance, so she tries to calm herself down a little and says, “I need to borrow Yang Jeongin, ma’am.”

The teacher frowns, but says, “Of course, Miss Park.”

Jihyo all but drags Jeongin out into the hallway by the sleeve.

“W- What’s up?” Jeongin squeaks out, backing up against the nearest wall.

“Woojin. Where is he?”

“Isn’t he _your_ classmate?” Jeongin frowns.

“He’s not there.” Jihyo says tensely. “Do you know where he is?”

“No.” Jeongin’s frown only grows deeper. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“He would’ve texted me if he were sick, so I could take notes for him.” Jihyo says. “He’s just not there, and he wasn’t at the benefit dinner on Friday, and he won’t pick up any of my texts or calls-”

“Oh no.” Jeongin’s eyes are starting to get watery.

Jihyo feels bad about it later, but she shoves him up against the wall. “What is it? Tell me.”

“Well, l- last week he had all these weird bruises and he didn’t wanna tell me where they were from and I was worried that his dad – because my mom said he can be a really violent guy – that maybe he was hurting Woojin-hyung or- or-”

“Miss Park? Mr. Yang?” Jeongin’s homeroom teacher’s leaning out the doorway of the classroom, frowning. “Is everything all right here?”

Jihyo tries to tell her everything’s just fine, but her throat’s seized up.

Jeongin puts one hand over the one she’s using to hold him against the wall, and gently pries her fingers off his shirt. “No.” He says, for both of them.

 

“What do you _mean_ he’s not going to school today?”

“He’s not going to school today. It’s none of your business.”

“I’m his _father_ , it’s all of my business! Besides, he’s already failing so many classes, he can’t be _absent_ -”

“Shh! He might be able to hear you.”

Chan rolls over in bed to face the wall. His parents’ voices die out in the hallway – his dad must’ve gone to work, and his mom must’ve gone back to work.

Chan feels uncomfortable, like his limbs are folded in wrong, so he rolls again to face the rest of the room. His sisters had left a mess of socks on the floor in their rush to get ready for school, while his younger brother’s blanket’s still a heap on his bed. His youngest brother is still fast asleep in his bed, curled up into a softly snoring ball.

Chan lays flat on his back. He feels like he can’t breathe.

He reaches for his phone again, but the only messages are from some of his classmates wondering where he is. He’s never missed a day of school before, so it makes sense for them to be worried.

Chan opens his conversation with Woojin, though it can hardly be called that.

_Chan: Are you awake? Can we talk?_

_Chan: I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have let things go that far._

_Chan: Please can we talk?_

_Chan: I know you’re probably angry with me but I just want to know that you’re okay._

_Chan: Please just say anything and I’ll leave you alone. I promise._

_Chan: Woojin?_

_Chan: I’m really sorry I swear I won’t bother you ever again but please just let me know you’re okay._

_Chan: Please answer me, Woojin, I’m just so worried._

_Chan: Please even if you hate me just say something, please._

_Chan: Please, Woojin._

Chan locks his screen and holds his phone to his chest, considering sending another text, though he knows that it’s just going to end up with all the others. When he closes his eyes – he hasn’t slept properly since that night – he can still see Woojin smiling at him, kissing him so softly that Chan can feel little else but Woojin’s breath warm and a little wet against his face. Then he hears Woojin screaming again, and he finds himself staring up at the ceiling.

He lifts his phone up to type out a message, but he notices the bruises on his wrist and knuckles. They don’t hurt so much anymore, but they’re becoming this sickly greenish color. Chan wonders if that’s a bad thing. _Woojin would know,_ is his first thought, but he shakes his head, trying to throw it away.

_Chan: I only did that because I was scared, Woojin, I’m sorry. I love you so much I didn’t know what to do. I’m really sorry. I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but please just let me know you’re okay. I still love you and I can’t sleep without knowing-_

Chan deletes everything and locks his phone again, rolling to face the wall.

 

Hyunjin’s walking to the bathroom as slowly as he can when he hears people arguing in not-so-hushed voices inside.

“-he can’t be _sick_ , we’ll die without him!”

“The game is on _Sunday_! It’s only Monday, he’s got loads of time to-”

“SUNDAY IS ONLY LIKE 5 DAYS AWAY-”

“Hi.” Hyunjin says, pushing the door to the bathroom open to find two pairs of eyes staring his way. “You can be heard from outside.”

“Oh, Hyunjin, thank god,” Jisung cries out, leaping across the tiles to hug Hyunjin, or rather, hang desperately from Hyunjin’s waist like a loud fanny pack. “Please help us.”

Hyunjin makes a face, but doesn’t push Jisung off. _He might fall into the urinals at this rate._

“What’s going on?”

“Cap’s absent.” Jisung says quietly, face buried in Hyunjin’s sweater.

“I can see that.” Hyunjin tries squirming out of Jisung’s unwelcome embrace. “What’s wrong with that? Maybe he’s just tired from last week’s training.”

“That’s what I was telling him.” Changbin says, rolling his eyes. “Cap’s only human-”

“He’s never missed a single day of class in his _life_ , dude!” Jisung squeaks, hurting Hyunjin’s ears. “Why would he start now???”

“Because Coach Im’s been treating us like packhorses.” Hyunjin says.

Changbin rotates one shoulder with a wince. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss your brother’s training.”

“Me too.” Hyunjin says. _Though it’s not like I haven’t asked him._

_“I’ll call in sick on the day after whether you win or lose,” Hyunjin’s brother had said on the walk home from the café last Friday. “Are you excited?”_

_“Not as excited as you are, I think.”_

_“Oh shut up,” Jinyoung had flicked a leaf off his jacket at his brother, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Can you imagine? You’re going to the_ national _championship! Of the entire fucking nation!”_

_“Isn’t it weird that the two teams gunning for the national championship are from the same area?”_

_“Yeah, well, you know the provincial teams are at a huge disadvantage and so many people are paid off and only city teams ever end up in the finals –” Jinyoung had grimaced then. “Things are really crappy, huh?”_

_Hyunjin had nodded, walking on in silence._

_“Don’t let that get you down too much,” Jinyoung had said. “You guys are a good team. And you never cheated, not once.”_

_Hyunjin had plucked the leaf and turned it over. The underside was a pretty gold. Hyunjin pockets the leaf to take a polaroid of it later. “We kinda cheated with the training camp.”_

_His brother had frowned for a moment before bursting out laughing. “God, I almost forgot about that. I should probably invite Mark to watch the finals. He’d get a kick out of that.”_

_Hyunjin had nodded again in complete silence. That’s how most of his “conversations” with his brother usually went anyway._

_Hyunjin had walked past the buildings and skinny trees, watching them go by as if he didn’t pass by the same ones every single day._

_“Do you think we’ll win?” He’d asked, sneaking a glance at his brother._

_“No.” His brother had said, watching something down the road with mild interest. “I mean, realistically speaking, the Bears have been training for the finals for months now – years, really, and almost all of them have played in a finals game before, so they’re less likely to choke up once they’re there.”_

_Hyunjin had snorted. “You don’t think we have a chance_ at all _?”_

_“I’m not saying you don’t have_ any _chance,” Jinyoung had huffed. “I’m just saying the chance is very slim. Very, very slim. Like, Jisung’s little bird ankles slim.”_

_“How optimistic of you, hyung.”_

_“I’m just answering your question, gosh.” Jinyoung had laughed as they turned onto their street. “You asked if I thought you’d win, and I doubt that’ll happen.”_

_“So it’s_ my _fault?” Hyunjin had said, elbowing his brother in the arm._

_“Yeah. If you’d asked me a better question, like, do I think you have it in you to win, or do I want you to win-”_

_“Do you?”_

_“Of course.” Jinyoung had punched Hyunjin lightly in the arm. “You’re_ my _team, dumbass.”_

_Hyunjin had caught another leaf falling from one of the trees on the street. This one was a rusty orange. “The other guys are still waiting for you to come back. To_ your _team.”_

_Jinyoung had pretended to ignore Hyunjin then for a few minutes, but Hyunjin had known better than to fall for it._

_“You can’t live off being a coach.” Jinyoung had said quietly as he opened the door to their apartment._

_“Coach Im does.”_

_“Coach Im-” Hyunjin’s brother had visibly bit down on his tongue to stop himself. “He might be okay with that, but I can’t. For some reason, my teenage brother eats more than Coach Im’s_ five _kids combined-”_

_“Hey!” Hyunjin had flicked his brother in arm. “You eat a lot, too.”_

_Jinyoung had smiled then, but it was only half as bright as it usually was. “Tell the others to give Coach Im a bit more respect, would you?”_

_“What?”_

_“Tell them to stop waiting.” Jinyoung had said, not giving Hyunjin a moment to catch his breath or protest before asking, “So what do you want for dinner?”_

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to get Jisung and Changbin to stop arguing, so he calmly steps between them, forcing them to crane their necks and lean out to keep frowning at each other.

“What are we going to do about Cap?” Hyunjin asks.

“Do we really need to do anything?” Changbin squints up at Hyunjin.

“We need to find him!” Jisung squeaks. “And see if he’s okay!”

 

Seungmin stops walking when he sees Jeongin making his way purposefully towards the fire exit. Seungmin’s a pretty good student - actually, he’s more of school wallpaper, neither good nor bad enough to be memorable - but he knows that the smokers hang out through that door. _Jeongin shouldn’t start smoking. He doesn’t have the constitution for it._

Seungmin allows morbid curiosity to take over, and follows Jeongin out the fire exit.

Sure enough, the school smokers are leaning lazily against the alley’s walls, huffing in a little gray cloud like a stack of chimneys. Seungmin smiles at the metaphor as he hides behind a pillar.

“If you snitch on us I am going to murder you, kid.” One of the boys, a junior, says.

“Shut up, dumbass, he’s gonna piss himself.” Seungmin frowns when he hears Minho’s voice. He thought Minho’d quit a few months back. “What do you want, Jeonginnie?”

“We need your help.” Jeongin mumbles timidly.

“ _We_? Did Woojin seriously send you out here on your own?” Minho laughs.

“No, no, it’s me and uh, Park Jihyo.” Jeongin says, and from the little that Seungmin can see, his ears are turning red.

“The _fuck_ are you doing hanging out with Park Jihyo?” Minho squawks.

“That’s not the point! Woojin-hyung’s not in today, and your dad’s hospital is the nearest-”

“Oh. Oh crap.” Seungmin sees Minho’s hand shoot out and grab Jeongin by the arm.

Minho and Jeongin nearly stumble back down the stairs when they see Seungmin.

Minho's still clutching his heart. "Fucking _shit_ , Seungmin, what the fuck are you doing there?”

“Nothing.” Seungmin shrugs.

“If _he_ snitches on us I’m murdering him!” One of the smokers shouts from the alleyway.

“Seriously, just choke on your fucking cancer stick, dumbass.” Minho shouts back at the alley, herding Jeongin and Seungmin back into the building. He pulls a little spritzer out of his pocket and sprays some unlabeled liquid all over the three of them.

“Is this c- car freshener?” Jeongin sputters out, coughing in the mist.

“Yeah.” Minho pulls his phone out. “Listen, I’m gonna lock myself in the bathroom to make an illegal call to my dad. Make sure no one comes in.”

Seungmin and Jeongin exchange frowns, but nod anyway and stand on either side of the bathroom door.

They start to hear vaguely muffled shouting from inside, but Seungmin elects to ignore it, and stops Jeongin by the arm before he goes in to investigate. “What happened to Cap?”

“He didn’t come in today, and… I’m not sure what uh, Miss Park said but I think she thinks his dad might’ve… hurt him?” Jeongin starts blinking rapidly when he finished his sentence.

Seungmin gives his shoulder a friendly pat. “I’m sure-” Then he remembers something.

He checks his phone.

**HJ:** IM FREAKING OUT WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO WITHOUT CAP

**HJ:** *screaming cat sticker*

**SM:** we’ve still got around a week left before the game

**SM:** maybe he’ll get better?

Seungmin scrolls up, but the rest of the messages are also Hyunjin flipping out. “The Weevils’ captain didn’t come to school today, either.”

Jeongin frowns, trying to pretend he’s not drying his eyes on his sleeve. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Aren’t they-”

The door to the bathroom swings open. “Holy fucking shit.” Minho says, pocketing his phone as he walks out.

“What?”

“Why?”

“Someone was rushed to the hospital last Friday,” Minho says. “But it was Woojin’s _dad_ , not him.”


	47. The Aftermath part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As I was saying, it’s so smug of him to skip out on training for the finals.”
> 
> “Well, if you knew that your dad bought the game already, why even bother?”
> 
> “Besides, we’re up against the Weevils. They’re way better than they were last year, but it’s still gonna be an easy win.”
> 
> “If I could skip training, I would.”
> 
> Minho’s had enough. _Actually, I’d had enough when their dumb asses even opened their mouths. Wow, I’m so patient._
> 
> “You? Skip training?” Minho scoffs. “That’s real bold of you when you can’t even throw the ball back to me from second fucking base-”
> 
> “Jesus, Minho-”
> 
> “Let him be, it’s that time of the month again.”
> 
> “Shut up, you sexist asshole.” Minho flicks his teammate in the center of his forehead, grinning at the hollow sound his finger makes again the guy’s skull. “And it doesn’t matter if   
> the game’s bought off or not, we still need to play it properly or people are gonna get suspicious. Do you really wanna end up like NC Tech?”
> 
> “Bitch.” The first teammate says, but the conversation, if you can call it that, drops there

“How come not a single one of us knows where Cap fucking _lives_?” Changbin groans. He and Hyunjin had just helped Jisung through a panic attack. “It’d be in the class directory, right?”

“I already asked their homeroom teacher awhile ago,” Jisung says, his voice still hoarse. “She won’t let me have it for some stupid privacy whatever reason.”

“I asked Vice Principal Bae.” Hyunjin says.

The other two boys gape at him. “What?”

“The fuck?”

“You serious?”

“Yeah, my brother said to ask her, she owes him something or something like that.”

“Hyunjin, sweetie, I think your older brother’s screwing the vice principal.” Jisung says, clapping Hyunjin on the back.

“No, don’t be gross, she was his math teacher.” Hyunjin jerks away from Jisung’s hand. “Anyway, she couldn’t help us, either.”

Changbin sinks to the floor. “What are we going to do?”

 

As it turns out, nothing.

Chan walks calmly into the park during training that afternoon. Coach Im, who had no idea what was going on (as usual), just tells him he’s a little bit late and he’s got to set a better example for the other boys, go warm up at the side.

Changbin ignores the ball flying towards him, drops the bat, and runs towards Chan with all the strength he has. “Cap! CAP! _CAP_!”

Chan stops and turns to give Changbin a little wave. “Hey.”

Changbin sees something like a dark splotch on Chan’s wrist. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”

“Oh.” Chan tugs his sweater sleeve over his wrist, up to his knuckles. Changbin frowns. Cap never wears long sleeves to practice. “I got sick.”

“Then you should’ve skipped training today.” Changbin says, just as the other boys come running over.

“Couldn’t miss training for my first _finals_ game, Changbin.” Chan grins, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Changbin’s about to ask something else, but Jisung tackles Chan into a hug and the rest of the boys pile up on them both.

 

“Good morning, Teacher, could I please borrow, uh, Park Jihyo for a minute?” Jeongin ignores the low “oooh”s and knee-slapping from the other seniors and watches Jihyo rush out of the classroom.

“Are you insane? What are you doing here?”

“You came to _my_ classroom yesterday-”

“That’s different.” Jihyo slaps her forehead. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“Did you go to Woojin-hyung’s house yesterday?” Jeongin asks. “What did he say?”

“Oh.”

Jeongin waits for her to continue, but he quickly gets tired of staring at her nose to pretend to be keeping eye contact because he really isn’t capable of that right now. “What did Woojin-hyung say? Is he sick? What happened to his dad-”

“I don’t know.” Jihyo says, looking at the floor. “They wouldn’t even let me in.”

“They… what?”

“The security wouldn’t let me into the house.” Jihyo looks up at Jeongin before he can avert his eyes, and hers are slightly teary. “The head of housekeeping said Woojin couldn’t have any visitors.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

 

Rose snaps Jeongin’s lunch container open to find that it hasn’t been touched.

“Yang Jeongin!” She shouts.

Jeongin comes padding out of his room. “Mommy?”

“Why didn’t you eat your lunch?”

“Uh…”

Rose shakes the container at him. “You went to training without eating lunch? Didn’t Woojinnie just say that Coach Park makes training tougher right before finals-” Rose narrows her eyes at her son, whose ears have gone red. “What’s going on?”

Jeongin laughs nervously. “W- What do you mean, Mommy?”

“Yang Jeongin.” Rose slaps the container onto the counter. “Spill the beans.”

“You really should’ve gone into law enforcement, Mommy.”

“Yang. Jeongin.”

Jeongin’s knees wobble, then he stumbles into the kitchen and starts crying.

Rose finds that she can’t play bad cop anymore. She wraps her arms around Jeongin, patting him on the head. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hungry? I still have some lunch leftover-”

“It’s Woojin-hyung,” Jeongin sniffles. “H- He didn’t come to school yesterday or today and he won’t answer his phone and we don’t know what happened but, uh, Miss Jihyo went to his house yesterday and they didn’t let her in and they were saying weird stuff like he can’t see any visitors but they didn’t explain anything else and we’re really scared not just because of the game on Sunday but we have a game on Sunday and we don’t even know what happened to him and Coach Park says I’m gonna have to pitch but I don’t think I can do it but that’s not even that important because Miss Jihyo’s really scared of Woojin-hyung’s dad but he’s the one who was rushed to the hospital last Friday and we don’t know anything else but- Mommy?”

Rose tilts her head away to keep her tears from falling onto Jeongin’s head. “Sorry. I’m just- I’m scared, too.”

Jeongin tries to look up at her, but she’s squeezing him too tightly. “Mommy?”

“If they kicked Woojin out,” Rose tucks her face into Jeongin’s hair. “Why wouldn’t he come here?”

“You think they kicked him out?” Jeongin asks in a small voice.

“They had the head of housekeeping say the same thing to all my friends when they kicked me out,” Rose plants a soft kiss on her son’s head. “But I hope things are different this time.”

 

Chan’s still helping Coach Im put the equipment away when he hears the other boys start screaming. It’s not out of the ordinary for the Weevils to be screaming at each other, but they seem to be screaming about something specific this time. Still, Chan’s just not in the mood for… anything, really.

Coach Im catches Chan by the fingers and squints at his knuckles in the dying light. “You get into a fight?”

Chan decides to just say, “Yeah.”

“Careful who you pick fights with.” Coach Im says. “You could screw up your entire future.”

Chan would normally ask Coach Im to expound on that, he’d normally find some way to meddle and care too much, but he just doesn’t have the energy, so he says, “Yeah.”

“Go home, I’ll finish up here.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

Chan trudges over to the pathway, trying to skirt around the other boys, who still seem agitated about something. Their voices die down to hushed whispers when Chan comes near, so he pauses and frowns at them. “What’s up?”

“The Bears’ captain hasn’t shown up to practice since last week.” Jisung says, ignoring the other boys’ aggressive nudges to shut him up.

Chan tries to swallow back any sign of emotion, keeping his face as straight and calm as possible as he says, “It’s only Tuesday. Maybe he got sick. Let’s not talk about other people behind their backs.”

“You don’t know what happened to him?” Hyunjin asks, but no one dares to nudge him.

“No.”

 

Minho nods in acknowledgment at his two teammates who are ahead of him in the queue at Subway.

“As I was saying, it’s so smug of him to skip out on training for the finals,” One of the guys says to the other.

“Well, if you knew that your dad bought the game already, why even bother?”

“Besides, we’re up against the Weevils. They’re way better than they were last year, but it’s still gonna be an easy win.”

“If I could skip training, I would.”

Minho’s had enough. _Actually, I’d had enough when their dumb asses even opened their mouths. Wow, I’m so patient._

“You? Skip training?” Minho scoffs. “That’s real bold of you when you can’t even throw the ball back to me from second fucking base-”

“Jesus, Minho-”

“Let him be, it’s that time of the month again.”

“Shut up, you sexist asshole.” Minho flicks his teammate in the center of his forehead, grinning at the hollow sound his finger makes again the guy’s skull. “And it doesn’t matter if the game’s bought off or not, we still need to play it properly or people are gonna get suspicious. Do you really wanna end up like NC Tech?”

“Bitch.” The first teammate says, but the conversation, if you can call it that, drops there.

“Next!” The cashier calls out.

Minho gives them a sickly sweet smile and cuts between them to go straight to the counter. “Hi, I’d like two…”

 

“Darling, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Jeongin’s old enough to be left alone.” Rose says, but she hasn’t let go of the door handle since they’d left the house, and her palms are starting to get sweaty.

“I mean coming here.” Her husband says, as he slows the car to a stop in front of a high gate, the only break in a wall that stretches all the way down the block.

Rose sighs. “Everything looks exactly the same as fourteen years ago.”

Her husband reaches over the console to hold her other hand, finding it gripping her cellphone anxiously. “Let’s just go home.”

“No.” Rose gently shakes Jaehyun’s hand off and unclips her seatbelt. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “Don’t go out of the car even if I go ballistic.”

Jaehyun grimaces. “The security might still have rifles.”

“They could have cannons for all I care.” Rose pushes the door open. “I’m ready to kill someone.”

“Darling, please don’t.”

Rose ignores him and starts storming towards the gate. The floodlights shine right in her eyes, but she keeps going on anyway. She bangs a fist on the doorbell.

One of the security men, carrying what looks like an automatic rifle, walks out of the personal gate. “I’m sorry, we’re not expecting any-”

“I’m Rose Kim.” Rose says.

The security guy scratches his head. “Uh…”

“Chairman Kim is my brother.” Rose groans. “I used to live here. What more do you need to let me into my own goddamn house-”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Kim, I can’t let you in-”

“I just want to speak to my nephew. Tell Woojin to come out here.” Rose says.

“Uh, he’s not- He’s not receiving any visitors right now-”

“What is he, a museum? Either let me in or bring my nephew out here or I’ll-”

“Rose, please.”

Rose stops and peers around the giant security guy. Coming out of the personal gate is a lithe man in a crisp suit. His hair is combed back, and his temples are starting to go gray, but he looks almost exactly as Rose remembers him. “Mr. Lee?”

The head of housekeeping smiles as he brushes the security guard aside. “Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”

“Oh my gosh, Mr. Lee!” Rose jumps a foot in the air and pulls the head of housekeeping in for a bear hug. “You’re still so skinny!”

“You too,” Mr. Lee says, patting Rose on the back. “Doesn’t Jaehyun feed you?”

“Oh come on, Mr. Lee, I can cook for myself now. And I’m still just three months along,” Rose says, pulling away to point at her tiny, tiny baby bump. “I won’t be skinny for long.”

Mr. Lee smiles. “Another one? Congratula-”

“Where’s my nephew, Mr. Lee?” Rose asks.

Mr. Lee’s smile fades.

Rose hugs her arms. It’s not cold, but she’s terrified and she needs the comfort. “They kicked him out, didn’t they?”

Mr. Lee looks sadder than Rose had ever seen him, even when he’d had to stand by the door while she was thrown out onto the street in the middle of the night. “It’s worse than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love & support even if all I do is hurl cliffhangers at you guys 😔💖💖💖 
> 
> Next update will be this weekend! Next chapter: The finals game begins, we find out what happened to Woojin, and... you know, more cliffhangers. 😉


	48. An Important Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Good old Hyunjin. Messing with Coach Park’s plans._
> 
>  
> 
> Seungmin lifts the bat. Minho’s on second, creeping his way towards third, but his boyfriend’s keeping a close eye on him.
> 
> Minho’s mouthing something at him, but Seungmin doesn’t make out any words other than “fucking” and “shit”.
> 
> He turns his attention back to Hyunjin as the latter winds up - always fun to watch - then judges the ball careening towards him. It’s tilting just a little bit to the left, but it’s got a weird, ping-pong-y underspin to it.
> 
> Seungmin braces himself and swings. The ball actually connects with the bat, but it pings off and flies towards the stands. 
> 
> Seungmin grins. _Good old Hyunjin._
> 
> Hyunjin smiles back as he catches the ball from their captain. He waits for Seungmin to get ready and give him a nod before he winds up - _Good old considerate Hyunjin_ \- but his wrist gives an obvious flick just as he lets the ball go.
> 
>  
> 
> _Good old easy-to-read Hyunjin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ **WARNING** ⚠
> 
> the descriptions of violence in one scene in this chapter aren't very graphic, but you might find them upsetting so once you hit the flashback to Friday the week before, just skip

Woojin doesn’t believe it at first, when he hears someone call his name through the door. “Woojin?”

Nobody’s spoken to him in days - not even the maid who drops by to give him his meals and pick up the plates. He’s thought about pushing past her and trying to escape several times in the past few days, but he knows full well that there’s no way he’s getting past the security. He’s not even sure how many days it’s been: Woojin only knows the time from his clock, but he has no idea what date it is.

“Woojin?”

He doesn’t move at first. He’d been in the middle of doing morning stretches on the floor, but he stays in position until they knock again.

“Woojin, it’s Mr. Lee.”

_I know that._

“Come down and have breakfast.” Mr. Lee continues, even when Woojin doesn’t respond. “You can’t be late for your game.”

Woojin reaches for his phone on his bedside table, before he remembers that it had been taken away from him, along with his laptop and tablet. He has no choice, then, but to get off the floor and open the door to ask Mr. Lee if it's really Sunday already.

“Mr. Lee-” Woojin stops, because the head of housekeeping’s not alone. His mother’s there, too, wearing the lace edges of her dressing gown down to threads with her fingers. She lets go of the dressing gown to try to hold Woojin’s face, but he jerks away. He’s usually careful not to do anything to even vaguely offend his mother, because she gets bothered by every little thing. _But she didn’t do anything when her husband was beating the crap out of me._

“Mr. Lee, has my uniform been washed?” Woojin asks, turning away from his mother. “The white one.”

“Yes, and pressed.”

“Thank you.”

 

Woojin arrives to the stadium on time, thanks to some minor law-breaking (both human and physical) on Mr. Nakamoto’s part. The chauffeur had wished Woojin good luck, as did Mr. Lee, while Woojin’s parents were nowhere to be found. His mother had locked herself in her room (though she had the privilege of unlocking it at any time, unlike Woojin), and his father had suddenly had a meeting to attend in China. So, with the support of two adults who seemed to genuinely care whether he lived or died and without even an ounce of acknowledgment from the two adults who’d brought him into the world, Woojin walks into the stadium with his chin up.

He knows that all eyes are on him as he makes his way to the dugout, and he hates it, but he has no choice. He’s still got a nasty bluish mark over his eye, but it’s gone down enough to let him see clearly. His teammates probably hate him for skipping out on training like a complete asshole, but Woojin’s going to leave them no choice but to take him back.

“Woojinnie!” His aunt’s already running down the stands, and his cousin’s flying over from the dugout.

Woojin freezes in mid-step. He hadn’t prepared to deal with _them_.

“How are you?” His aunt gets to him first, cupping his chin in one hand and gently thumbing over his bruises with the other. “Does it still hurt anywhere?”

“No, Auntie, I’m fine.” Woojin manages to say. Everyone’s still staring at him, but now it’s a different kind of embarrassing.

“Cap!” Jeongin leaps towards him, but Coach Park seems to come from nowhere, arms crossed.

Woojin straightens up and tries to look him in the eye, but Coach Park is tall. “Coach-”

“If you think I’ll let you play after this little stunt you pulled-”

“Don’t test me, Coach.” Woojin glares at Coach Park until he’s sure the latter is uncomfortable, at least. “I’ll pitch and Jeongin will play shortstop.”

“What makes you think I’ll just do whatever you tell me to?” Coach Park sneers. “And you didn’t even ask politely, too. Brat.”

“I won’t pitch.” Jeongin pipes up suddenly. Woojin’s heart jumps at that. He doesn’t look Jeongin’s way, afraid he’ll start crying if he does.

“Then we’ll have Chanhee do it. You two really think you can blackmail me?” Coach Park scoffs.

“Good luck explaining to the alumni association why you didn’t let me pitch at the finals.” Woojin says, hoping he sounds calm. _I guess I do, because Jeongin’s not reacting._

“To hell with the alumni association-”

Woojin frowns. “Don’t they pay for your salary?”

Coach Park purses his lips. “Honestly, Woojin, you look like crap. You look like you’re about to pass out-”

“Let me pitch until I do.”

“No.”

“I’m going to do it anyway.” Woojin slips his glove on just as the announcer starts welcoming everyone to the 77th National High School Baseball Championship.

“Woojin, stop.” Coach Park says weakly as Woojin starts jogging towards the dugout.

“Good luck, Coach.” Jeongin tips his cap off to the coach before jogging after his cousin.

 

Woojin’s never gone into a game with his mind this cluttered before. He usually avoids everything right before a game, listening to rain sounds on his noise-cancelling headphones, but both his phone and his headphones had been taken away from him. Even with the dead silent drive to the stadium and the respectful, nervous distance his teammates have been giving him, he feels like his head is full of trash. No coherent thought even stands out, it’s just this deafening buzzing between his ears that makes him frown as he steps onto the mound.

Minho’s eyes seem extra bright with concern from inside his catcher’s mask. _You okay?_ He seems to be asking.

_Of course not._ Woojin winds his arm up experimentally, and his shoulder clicks. _Shit._

He tries tossing a simple, straight pitch down the center, but it curves so far out of the way that Minho has to extend a leg and reach to his left to catch it.

_Fuck._

Woojin doesn’t need to turn around to know that Jeongin’s bristling with worry, and he sees Coach Park make a movement towards the diamond, as if to ask the cousins to switch. It’s too late, though. The announcer’s already said that the game is starting, and a loud roar comes from the stands. He’s never seen this many people at a match. _The Weevils and all their alumni must be going insane at this point._

Woojin squints at the first batter, one of the Weevils he doesn’t know the name of. The guy's hands are shaking so hard that the bat seems to be vibrating.

Woojin feels bad for him, of course. He was a nervous wreck in his first championship game. _You’re a nervous wreck_ now _, too, asshole._

He feels bad for this guy, but he also feels a lot of other things - the clutter in his head. One feeling bubbles to the surface, sliding over all the others. _Half the people here are worried I’m not in good enough shape to play. The other half think I’m a smug asshole. Everyone expects me to fuck up, either way._

Woojin sets his jaw. _So I’m not going to._

 

“Out!” The umpire makes a motion for both sides to change.

Chan feels the shoulders around him sagging as Changbin comes trudging back to the dugout.

“Sorry guys.” Changbin says.

“You did great!” Felix insists, gripping his own glove aggressively.

"It’s okay, man.” Chan claps Changbin on the shoulder and hands him his glove. "We just need to get into our, uh, groove?"

Changbin chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, you're right, Cap."

 

Chan starts shimmying into his catcher’s gear. He’s trying to focus on the game, because this is an Important Game with capital letters, but his eyes keep wandering over to the other team. _No, not the whole team. Just Woojin._

Woojin looks terrible. His cheeks are sallow and his eyes are dark, more so under the shadow of his baseball cap. He’s shut the Weevils out with nine flawless, impossible pitches, but his usual self-assured smirk hasn’t come out once. And his bruises haven’t healed completely, either, but they’re darker and deeper than Chan’s. _And they’re on his face, of all places._

“Come on, Cap, let’s give them a taste of their own medicine,” Jisung says, patting the velcro on Chan’s gear down.

“You sound like you’re the one pitching.” Hyunjin mutters, giving his glove a little stretch as they walk out onto the field.

“You’re gonna do great, Hyunjin, just relax,” Jisung tiptoes to give Hyunjin’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze, like a discount masseuse. “You don’t have to be Kim Woojin.”

Hyunjin glances at the wine-colored marks on Woojin’s face. “I don’t want to be.”

 

Seungmin’s the sixth to bat, and Coach Park gives his shoulder a rough pat as he leaves the bench. Coach Park’s fuming, not because the Weevils are actually playing fairly well, but because he has no idea why the Bears aren't playing better.

Seungmin ignores the coach's litany of growled instructions and grins at Hyunjin when he steps up to the plate, and Hyunjin smiles and waves back.

_Good old Hyunjin. Messing with Coach Park’s plans._

Seungmin lifts the bat. Minho’s on second, creeping his way towards third, but his boyfriend’s the Weevils’ shortstop and he’s keeping a close eye on him.

Minho’s mouthing something Seungmin’s way, but Seungmin doesn’t make out any words other than “fucking” and “shit”.

He turns his attention back to Hyunjin as the latter winds up - _always fun to watch_ \- then judges the ball careening towards him. It’s tilting just a little bit to the left, but it’s got a weird, ping-pong-y underspin to it.

Seungmin braces himself and swings. The ball actually connects with the bat, but it pings off and flies towards the stands.

Seungmin grins. _Good old Hyunjin._

Hyunjin smiles back as he catches the ball from their captain. He waits for Seungmin to get ready and give him a nod before he winds up - _Good old considerate Hyunjin_ \- but his wrist gives an obvious flick just as he lets the ball go.

_Good old easy-to-read Hyunjin._

Seungmin adjusts his stance and scoops with the bat a little. The ball slams into it with a loud ping, then flies up and away. Seungmin doesn’t even wait, he just drops the bat as he _flies_ towards first. He hears Coach Park yelling at him to stop, but there’s a louder, more strident, “RUUUUUUUN!” from Assistant Coach Yoo standing on her seat. Seungmin knows where his loyalties lie. He keeps running, even when he hears the ball whistling past his ears, skidding past second, third, and finally sliding towards the home plate, reaching out with the very tip of his cleats.

“FUCK YEAH!” His sister screams from the stands, drowning out everyone else. “THAT’S MY BABY BRO!”

 

Woojin reaches out to give Minho a low five when he gets back to the bench, but Minho grabs his hand and goes in for a hug.

Woojin flinches, but pats him on the back. _It’s only a second or two anyway_.

He gingerly puts his hand out to give Seungmin a low five, and Seungmin actually slaps it, thankfully enough.

Woojin settles back into his seat. He doesn’t actually like watching baseball games, but since Coach Park’s dumped him at the bottom of the batting lineup, he can’t do anything but watch and itch to do things better.

_That’s terrible of you, Woojin, you’re not above making a few mistakes,_ the voice that he supposes is his conscience says. His conscience has a familiar voice, but he doesn’t mind that right now.

He looks out at the field, where Jeongin’s at bat. Everyone’s cheering for him, but Jeongin looks like he wishes they wouldn’t. The kid’s already knobbly knees look extra shaky at the moment, and Woojin wishes he could funnel his own overconfidence over to his cousin.

Hyunjin throws a textbook curveball, and Jeongin completely misses it. Coach Park seems to be losing his hair by the second while he paces back and forth. The other Bears are also starting to look nervous, too, even if it’s just the first inning. They’d expected things to go like the last few times they’d faced the Weevils, but the Weevils hadn’t unleashed Hyunjin yet at that point.

Woojin settles back and watches his cousin strike out with a deep kind of satisfaction. _I don’t want Jeongin to feel bad, but it’s worth it to force our team to actually compete for a change._

The next Bear's back and shoulders tense when Hyunjin tosses another pitch. He hits it, but it pops straight upward before tumbling down somewhere to the left. Chan has to drop on one knee and really reach for it.

The light catches his wrist peeking out from under his glove, and it’s still got these faint greenish-blue marks on it.

_Because of me._

Woojin’s stomach seizes. Chan squats back into position after passing the ball back to Hyunjin, and his glove slides down to cover his wrist again, but just knowing the marks are there makes Woojin feel sick.

 

Woojin keeps his breakfast down for another two innings, pitching like he’s on autopilot. He has a vague notion that the entire crowd is hanging on his every pitch, afraid he’ll break his streak, then collectively sighing in relief when he doesn’t. He knows everyone on the field is a little pissed off with him, whether they’re his teammates or not, because he’s ruining what would’ve been an almost evenly-matched game.

Woojin opens and closes the strap to his glove while the next batter steps up. He’s not adjusting it, but he needs something to do to keep him from looking at Chan.

He grips the ball in his hand and looks up, his eyes catching on Chan’s like burrs on a pair of jeans. _Like an idiot, more like._

Chan’s gaze looks a little scared, a little relieved, a little sorry, and very, _very_ much in love. Woojin feels his shoulders ease up with that false sense of security again, like everything’s going to be okay because Chan says so - even if he hasn’t said anything to Woojin.

He must be staring for a while, because Jeongin’s hovering close to Woojin again. “You okay, Cap?”

“Yeah.” Woojin says.

Then he throws a pitch so bad that it’s out of Minho’s overextended reach. Minho has to crawl ungracefully for the ball.

The entire crowd lets out a low, disappointed groan even before the umpire begrudgingly calls it a, “Ball.”

Woojin doesn’t mind it, though, because Chan’s looking his way again. _Of course he is, he’s waiting for you to pitch the damn ball._

But Chan’s mouth is moving. He’s mouthing something out to Woojin, and Woojin squints to try to understand what it is. ‘It’s okay,’ Chan mouths again, and this time Woojin can read it. ‘Relax.’

_Relaxing is the problem_ , Woojin thinks, as he releases another undeniably bad pitch. Woojin’s bracing for the troubled look from Minho again when he has to chase after the ball, but at the last second Chan’s feet move, and his entire body leans.

Chan swings the bat.

The crowd is muttering and murmuring, because there’s no way that Chan could’ve misjudged that pitch.

“Strike?” Even the umpire looks confused.

But Chan looks at Woojin again as he lifts the bat, and he gives Woojin a smile that seems to say, _Do whatever, I’ll swing anyway._

 

_Friday evening, the week before_

Woojin blocks Chan’s entire body with his own when his father starts storming towards them.

“Father.” Woojin says, his voice less shaky than he’d expected.

His father lifts a hand, and Woojin extends one of his arms to shield Chan, but to his surprise, the hand comes down on his face instead. Woojin’s ears ring as he feels the floor tilt under him, before catching him with a heavy thud. He can hear someone screaming - his mother, perhaps - and he scrambles to his feet to protect Chan, because his father’s raising his hand again.

It comes down on Woojin’s face again, the deep sound echoing in his skull as he falls to the floor again. He feels a hand tighten around his neck, pulling him up, and he can only watch as his father lands another punch on his face. His father’s face is a blotchy purple, and he’s shaking so hard that Woojin’s having a hard time looking at him. He hits Woojin again, and again, and Woojin quickly loses count. All he can think of is Chan, he needs to cover Chan, he can’t let Chan get hurt-

“Stop! STOP!” Someone screams, and in the hazy way everything’s coming to him with a one-second delay, he thinks it’s his mother. But then a pale hand grabs his father by the lapel of his dinner jacket, and Woojin quickly realizes that it’s _not_ his mother. Woojin only manages to get to his knees in time to see Chan curl his free hand into a fist and punch Woojin’s father right in the middle of his face. There’s a loud crack, and Woojin’s immediately worried for Chan’s hand. Then blood starts gushing out of the chairman’s nose.

Chan looks terrifying for a moment, his face cold and expressionless as he shoves Woojin’s father’s hand off his wrist and wipes the blood on his knuckles off on his jeans.

Woojin’s afraid to come near him even when Mr. Lee helps his father out of the room, even when his mother stalls at the door, unsure of whether to comfort her son or her husband until Woojin’s father shouts at her to accompany him to the hospital.

The door swings shut, leaving Woojin sitting on the floor, looking up at Chan.

Only then does Chan stagger backward, like he’s just realized what he’s done. “Oh god.” He says in a small voice.

He turns to Woojin then, his expression softened and panicked. Woojin doesn’t know what to do, but he knows that he wants to take Chan in his arms and make him feel safe.

“Woojin,” Chan says, extending a hand to Woojin, as if inviting Woojin to do exactly what he wants.

Woojin almost takes Chan’s hand, but he stops himself.

_I’ve already tried doing whatever I want. Look where it got us_.

“Get out.” Woojin says, even though it hurts him to say it.

Chan squats and takes Woojin’s face in his hands. Only then does Woojin realize his face is in pain, it’s wet and burning at the same time, and the ache is almost as strong as the one in his chest.

“Woojin, I didn’t mean to, but he was hurting you and I couldn’t just _watch_ -”

“Get. Out.” Woojin shoves Chan’s hands off his face.

“I can’t leave you like this-”

“GET OUT!” Woojin shouts, just as the door to his room opens. It’s two of the security personnel, and they only let Chan put on his jacket and grab his phone before they drag him out of the room. Woojin’s legs can’t support him, and he can’t run out after them, and he can hear shouts and loud noises down the hallway, but there’s nothing he can do but curl up on the bloodstained carpet, crying.

 

_Present_

“Cap.”

Woojin realizes everyone’s looking at him, and the umpire’s blowing his whistle, and Coach Park is screaming his head off, and Jeongin’s hand is actually on his shoulder. Everything else comes second, though, to the way Chan’s looking at him so tenderly that Woojin feels his chest actually seize up.

Woojin drops the baseball.

“Maybe I can’t do this after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!!! sorry for the late update i was out like a rock last weekend with what i think was a cold? who knows anyWAY stay tuned for next week's update:  
> ♥ the finals match continues!  
> ♥ Chan and Jinyoung take (different) matters into their own hands 👀  
> ♥ aaand FELIX GOES OFF!! LEGEND!!! K I NG!!! WE STAN!!!


	49. I Came to Play Ball, Not Dance Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woojin’s hands slide up Chan's back and rest behind his neck. “Chan…”
> 
> “Uh-huh?” Chan asks, his lips close enough to brush against Woojin’s.
> 
> “We have a game to get back to.”
> 
> Chan leans away to frown at Woojin. _Does he mean he doesn’t want this? Or that we should continue it later? Because that would be responsible. Yeah. Woojin’s responsible._
> 
> “Your teammates will be wondering where you are.” Woojin extends a hand to help Chan up.
> 
> Chan stands up very, very slowly. _Does he not want me? Or not? Not not? What…?_
> 
> “Good luck.” Is all Woojin says, before pecking Chan on the cheek. He turns and starts out of the locker room before Chan can even begin to understand what’s going on.

“Chan! Where are you going?” Coach Im calls after Chan, who’s dropped his gear on the ground and broken away from the huddle to run towards the locker rooms. Jinyoung comes running down from the bleachers, jumping the divider to run to Coach Im. “Jinyoung, can you watch them while I-”

“Let him go.” Jinyoung says.

“But this timeout’s only-”

“He’ll be back, and if he isn’t back in time, just move Changbin to catcher.” Jinyoung says.

Changbin groans loudly. “Please be back soon, Cap.”

 

Chan runs down the hallway, then turns to the locker room assigned to the Bears. He opens the door, finding all the lights shut off. He’s about to leave when he hears this quiet sound echoing gently against the tiled walls.

Chan lets the door swing shut behind him. He walks past the rows of lockers and clothes that the Bears hadn’t bothered to stuff into their lockers, and stops at a bench tucked away in the very last row. There’s a small, fogged window here to the outside, lighting up Woojin’s hunched form with a gentle glow.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Go away.”

Chan sits down on the bench next to his. “Make me.”

“I don’t want to argue right now.” Woojin’s got his shoes up on the bench, red dust and all, and his face is buried in his knees. “Just go away.”

Chan's sitting there for a long while, knowing full well that neither of them have any time to waste here, but he doesn't know what to say. He feels he has to say something, that he has to stay here and fix things, but he just doesn't know right now.

Chan eventually decides on saying, “I’m sorry for leaving you last Friday.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

“I could’ve fought harder to stay.” Chan says, before correcting himself. “I _should’ve_.”

“You’d really have gotten arrested if you had.” Woojin mutters. “My dad could still have you arrested now.”

“Well, he hasn’t yet, so I don’t think he will.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know that he hurt his own son, so-”

“How is that any of your business?” Woojin looks up at Chan, his eyes red as he glares at him. “Who told you that you had to go out and put your own neck on the line like that? Who told you to-”

“I love you.” Chan says before he can stop himself. He lowers his head. “So I had to do it. Sorry.”

Woojin doesn’t say anything for another long, long time. He’s just staring at Chan with a cold, hard expression that makes the hairs on Chan’s forearms prickle.

Chan stands up. He’s probably made things worse, and besides, the game is probably carrying on out there without them both. _I can’t leave my teammates like this. Woojin doesn’t want me around anyway._

“I’m sorry for everything I messed up.” Chan runs a dusty hand through his hair, then quickly regrets it, coughing. “I’m sorry for getting you in so much trouble. I’m sorry for hurting your dad-”

“No, I’m glad you did that.” Woojin says suddenly. He still doesn’t look up at Chan as he adds, “He deserved it.”

“But…” Chan doesn’t know what to say. _Sure, Woojin’s father isn’t the best one out there, but for him to say he deserves to get punched in the face… Maybe he really does_.

“I don’t know why I didn’t do it myself.” Woojin sighs. “You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I’d just been the one who-”

“Woojin, he’s still your father. You couldn’t have.”

“I know, but no one’s more important to me than you are.” Woojin makes a face as he says that, and his ears burn red. “Even though Jihyo would probably insist she’s higher, and maybe Jeongin would whine his way to first...”

Chan feels his entire body deflate with relief. “I thought you hated me or something.” He says quietly.

“What the hell?” Woojin frowns. “How could you possibly think that I _hate_ \- Chan, are you crying?”

Chan nods, sniffling shamelessly. He lifts his hands to wipe his eyes, but Woojin catches him by the wrists.

“You’re going to infect your damn eyes.”

Chan opens his eyes and blinks when something soft brushes against his eyes. It’s a soft white handkerchief with Woojin’s initials monogrammed in the corner. Chan has never seen a monogrammed handkerchief in real life, and he starts laughing.

“What is wrong with you?” Woojin says, but he smiles as he pats Chan’s tears away.

Chan tugs the handkerchief away from his face, and looks up into Woojin’s eyes. He knows it’s not appropriate to think it right now, but even with all the dark bruises on his face and the edges starting to show on his hollowed cheeks, Woojin’s so handsome that Chan can’t believe how lucky he is just to be this close to him. Woojin’s lips curl into a little bow shape, and his breath is soft and warm against Chan’s face. Chan knows it’s not the right time, but he angles his face and leans closer.

Woojin’s hands slide up Chan's back and rest behind his neck. “Chan…”

“Uh-huh?” Chan asks, his lips close enough to brush against Woojin’s.

“We have a game to get back to.”

Chan leans away to frown at Woojin. _Does he mean he doesn’t want this? Or that we should continue it later? Because that would be responsible. Yeah. Woojin’s responsible._

“Your teammates will be wondering where you are.” Woojin extends a hand to help Chan up.

Chan stands up very, very slowly. _Does he not want me? Or not? Not not? What…?_

“Good luck.” Is all Woojin says, before pecking Chan on the cheek. He turns and starts out of the locker room before Chan can even begin to understand what’s going on.

 

Woojin power-walks out of the locker room and goes straight to the dugout.

“Nice of you to join us.” Coach Park says dryly, before crossing his arms and squinting out at the diamond, where Hyunjin’s winding up for another pitch. Woojin frowns. He can’t believe he’d missed an entire inning because of… _him._ Woojin watches Chan switch places with Changbin, who groans and hobbles off the field.

If Woojin couldn’t concentrate on anything but Chan before, it’s worse now. Chan’s back is turned to him, obviously, since he’s the catcher, but just the outline of his shoulders and the tiny tufts of his too-long hair peeking out from under his helmet are driving Woojin mad. He’s never wanted anything as badly as he’s wanted Chan - not just that way, of course - but he’s never been as scared, either.

Woojin sits on the bench next to Minho, who’s hoping that Minho’s sheer Minho-ness would be able to take his mind off Chan.

“Hey Cap.” Minho says, tapping his foot on the ground so agitatedly that the whole bench vibrates. “How you doing?”

“Okay.” Woojin shrugs. It’s true enough. “What’s the score?”

“15-10.” Minho says bitterly.

Woojin lifts his eyebrows. “Really?”

“I don’t know what they’re all smoking, but even their shitty batters are doing well today.” Minho says. “But Jeongin keeps fucking up, Cap, you have to get back there.”

Woojin pulls his mouth into a straight line. He feels bad for leaving Jeongin like this, but Woojin can’t trust himself right now. Still, Woojin won’t stand for this. “Don’t talk shit about Jeongin unless you can do better.”

 

“Hey Cap?”

“Yeah?”

“So what happened to him?”

Chan stops watching the game to frown at Felix. “What?”

“The Bears’ captain. Why isn’t he pitching again? Is he injured?” Felix asks. Then he jumps from surprise and looks down sheepishly. “I mean, aside from… the obvious.”

“I don’t know.” Chan realizes he hadn’t asked. What’s wrong with him? He hadn’t asked if Woojin was even okay.

“Felix, you’re up.” Hyunjoon says, nudging Felix from the other side of the bench.

Felix jumps to his feet. “What?”

“The Bears have called for a timeout, but you’re up after that.” Coach Im walks back to them from the field. “No pressure, Felix, but the bases are loaded.”

“How is that _not_ supposed to pressure me?” Felix squeaks.

“J-Just relax, Felix, i-it’s okay,” Coach Im sputters out, realizing his mistake. “Just do whatever, it’s okay-”

“We’ve only got one out, it’s okay.” One of the other boys says.

“No, I was out too.” Hyunjoon sighs. “We’ve got two outs.”

“And the bases are _LOADED_?” Felix’s knees wobble as he leans against the nearest post.

Chan gets up and takes Felix by the shoulders. “You’re going to be all right, Felix. You know what to do.”

“Die on the spot?”

“Just focus on the pitcher and watch the ball." Chan says firmly. "Ignore everything else.”

“You mean that?” Felix points at the roaring crowd and the cameras from a national TV station. “ _THEM_? IGNORE _THEM_?”

“Ignore them."

Felix's cheeks are drained of blood, like an unripe apple. Chan wishes he could take Felix’s place, like he had loads of times for his other teammates over the past few years, but he’s hyperaware of the hundreds, maybe even _thousands_ of pairs of eyes on this game right now. _So we have to play 100% by the rules._

Chan rests his hands on Felix’s shoulders. He hopes the freshman doesn’t feel how shaky his hands are, because the last thing he needs is Felix knowing that _he’s_ nervous, too.

“Just do your best, Felix. Watch the ball and if it doesn’t look or feel right, don’t swing.”

“Y- Yeah, I know that, but…”

“If you do swing and it does hit, just run.”

“But Cap-”

They’re interrupted by a hand slapping onto the entrance to the dugout. “Hey Jaebum?”

The entire team (well, all the ones who aren’t out on the bases wondering what the holdup is) turns to find Coach Park - _Hyunjin’s brother_ , Chan corrects himself mentally - stepping into the shade.

“Hey Jinyoung, is something wrong?” Coach Im says, but he’s sweating way too much even for the midmorning heat.

“Listen, _I respect you_ , you know that?” Jinyoung’s tone is weird, like he’s quoting something that Chan just doesn’t recognize. “I respect you a _lot_.”

Coach Im looks like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Are we really going to do this again?” He asks.

The entire dugout seems to fall silent, like a door had been shut between them and the rest of the stadium. There’s something between the two coaches - _well, the coach and Hyunjin’s brother_ \- that makes everyone nervous. Chan, being Chan, wants to know what it is. _What does Coach Im mean, “again”?_

“Let’s just say we’ll be even.” Jinyoung says, before Chan can even begin to pry.

Chan looks to Coach Im for some kind of explanation, since the coach is nice, but terrible at hiding his feelings. But Coach Im just takes off his cap and lowers his head, kind of like he’s bowing at Hyunjin’s brother.

_What the hell is going on?_ Chan finds himself stepping back out of the way.

Then Jinyoung claps Coach Im on the arm. “Your family’s in the fifth level, left side.”

Coach Im smiles weakly. “Good luck, Jinyoung.”

Chan only realizes what’s going on when he hears Coach Im’s footsteps pounding up the stairs. He turns back to Jinyoung very slowly, while the announcer - he’d almost forgotten that this match had an announcer - starts squabbling something about the Weevils’ volunteer assistant coach taking over for the team’s main coach.

“Okay, boys, listen up.” Jinyoung - _no, he’s Coach Park again now… I think_ – says, folding his arms as he looks the boys over. “I have a plan, and I’m not accepting any criticism on it or dumb improvisations on your part-”

“Jisung’s already on the field, hyung.” Hyunjin says.

“That’s a relief.” Jinyoung puts an arm around Felix. “So here’s what you’re gonna do…”

 

Felix steps out onto the field to loud cheers, louder than he’s ever heard in his life, since his dads never let him go to any concerts. He keeps having to turn the bat around in his hands. His dripping, clammy hands.

“Go Felix!” Coach Park shouts from the dugout, but it’s not so much an encouragement as it is a reminder that there _is_ a plan and Felix _better_ stick to it.

Felix doesn’t want to let Coach Park or any of the other guys down, but he feels like his knees are gonna let him down soon. He wonders for a second what would happen if he were to just collapse in the middle of the field right now.

He frowns when he sees Jeongin standing on the mound. _Didn’t Coach Park say they were gonna switch Jeongin out for their Captain? If that wasn’t the point of the timeout, then WHAT-_

“Step forward, kiddo.”

Felix gapes at the Bears’ catcher for a second. “What?”

“Take a step forward, you’re too damn far.” Minho says through gritted teeth.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Felix takes the step and looks back at Jeongin as he lifts the bat. Jeongin looks pretty bad. He still looks nice, of course, because he’s Jeongin, but he looks the way Felix is feeling right now. _Must be worse for him, though. He’s just a freshman, like me-_

The ball whistles past Felix’s bat before he can swing, and smacks into Minho’s glove.

_Crap_. Felix casts a nervous glance back at the dugout. The other boys are biting their grimy nails, but Hyunjin’s brother - _Coach Park_ just gives him a grim Ok sign with his hand. Felix takes that to mean, _Don’t you dare fuck this up, Felix._

Felix swings on the next pitch, but it just knocks into the tip of the bat before flying off aimlessly into a fence.

_Crap crap crap crap._

Felix isn’t the best at math, but he’s painfully aware of the count right now. _Two outs. Two strikes. Three of the guys looking at me like they’re begging me not to fuck up oh god I’m gonna mess this up oh god oh god-_

Jeongin flings another pitch his way, and Felix feels as though he passes out. He’s only fainted once before, after going on a field trip to a zoo with a high fever and no water jug, and this time feels kind of the same.

“FELIX!” Cap’s voice shrieks out, dragging Felix back to consciousness. “RUN!”

Felix has no idea what’s going on, but he finds himself running to first.

“Get him! Get him!” Someone’s yelling.

“RUN, FELIX!” Cap’s voice is louder.

Felix nearly trips over the first base.

“OVER HERE, DUMBASSES!” Minho screeches above the other voices.

“KEEP GOING!” Hyunjin screams like a wild tropical bird.

Felix scrambles off, having to dance around the angry, confused baseman on his way to second.

“HERE! HERE!”

“ _FELIX_!!!”

Felix stumbles onto the the third base, just as the ball flies close enough to his ear to feel like a blade. He puts a hand to his ear, expecting to feel blood, but there’s none.

“Dude wait, fuck, we can’t _both_ be here!” Jisung says, and only then does Felix realize that they’re standing on the same dirty white rubber base.

“Oh crap-” Felix runs back towards second, but the ball smacks into the second baseman’s glove. The baseman starts running after him, so what else can he do but spin gracefully on his heel like a ballerina and leap - _the ballet term is jeté,_ Felix thinks in his panic - back towards third?

He knows there’s no way he can run faster than a ball being thrown between two consecutive bases, but he lands onto third without hearing the slap of a ball into a glove.

“Go back,” He hears Coach Park say, but it’s way too quiet for him to possibly be hearing it over the sheer amount of screaming right now.

_Coach Park is in my head_. Felix realizes, stepping back off the base.

Minho immediately starts barking instructions as he throws the ball towards the third baseman. Just as Coach Park predicted.

Felix straightens his shoulders and shifts his weight, like he’s about to run.

One of his dads is a huge Fred Astaire fan, and the other is a big Jackie Chan fan, as Felix had told Coach Park one afternoon, so naturally, Felix had taken dance _and_ karate for years until his dads had conceded to let him play baseball. He dances around the Bears’ third baseman, who’s holding the ball out to tap Felix out and not expecting Felix to do a little tap dance routine around him.

“The fuck are you-” The third baseman says, turning around with a frown before he realizes that the tip of Felix’s left foot had gently tapped the third base. “What-”

Felix does another jeté to avoid the outstretched baseball, before leaping further towards the home plate.

“HEY!” Minho screams. “THROW IT HERE!”

Felix gives his tired legs one last push to make it to home before the ball reaches Minho, because there’s no dancing around _him_. Still, the home plate seems to be crawling further and further away from him and the whistle of the ball gets really loud.

So Felix, in a final moment of panic, kicks a leg out and lets himself slide, but not the way baseball players usually do it.

 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Hooooly shit!” Jisung hoots and slaps his knee, bending over in a mixture of laughter and exhaustion. The rest of the Weevils realize what had just happened a second later, and break out in cheers and screams and squawks. It had been satisfying enough stomping over the home plate right in Minho’s face, but this… this…

Felix is still in a full split - as in, his legs are forming a perfectly straight line after doing a clean-as-fuck death drop. The umpire and other game officials have out to frown at him and his extended foot, arguing loudly whether it hit the base before Minho tapped him out.

Minho looks ready to shove the baseball down someone’s throat, teeth bared as he argues back at the umpire. Jisung stops laughing, because he doesn’t like seeing Minho so upset. And he looks hot. _Really, inappropriately hot._

“And that’s my cue,” Hyunjin’s brother - _nah, he’s Coach Park again_ \- brushes his hands on his jeans and steps out onto the field.

 

“Felix.”

“Huh?”

Felix frowns when Coach Park puts an arm around him.

“It’s done,” Coach Park chuckles.

“The match?”

“No, let’s just walk away before the umpire changes his mind.” Coach Park says, leading him off the field. “You did good, Felix.”

“Really?”

Coach Park’s smile is warm. “Yes, Felix.”

Something tingles in Felix’s chest. He can’t stop grinning as he walks back into the dugout. Jisung tackles him, Chan pulls him into a bear hug, Hyunjin nearly strangles him with a side-hug, and then the rest of the team pile on top until Felix can hardly breathe.

Felix is trying to wrestle his way out of the crowd, because he can see Changbin standing by the back of the dugout, and if there’s one hug that he desperately wants right now, it’s-

“Okay, okay, that’s enough for now, we can’t let Felix’s save go to waste.” Coach Park splits the boys up, his arm coming in front of Felix before he can even step towards Changbin. “Go on, Changbin, murder them.”

_Dammit, Coach Park._

Felix slumps onto the bench, not looking up as he hears Changbin start out of the dugout. Then he sees a pair of cleats - bright green ones that look terrible with the Weevils’ uniform - stop right in front of his.

A hand slides out, hanging under Felix’s face. “High five for luck?”

“Ok.” Felix looks up at Changbin and grins as he presses his hand against Changbin’s, lingering with their fingers almost intertwined for a second too long. Then he pulls his hand back to his side with a start. “Um.”

“Okay, that’s not really a high-five,” Changbin laughs awkwardly. “But thanks anyway.”

Felix’s heart flutters. “You’re welcome.”


	50. I’ll Show You How I Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan rubs his eyes dry on his jersey sleeve. He extends his hand to the middle of the huddle. “Weevils on 3?”
> 
> The other boys nod and pile their hands in the middle of the huddle. Even Jinyoung puts his hand in, but he winces when the sweaty, dusty boys’ hands touch his own. 
> 
> Chan clears his throat and yells out, “One, two-”
> 
> “WEEVILS!” Jisung shouts.
> 
> “HE SAID ON THREE!” Changbin shouts back at him.
> 
> “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!” Felix screeches.
> 
> “What a fucking mess.” Jinyoung chuckles.

Woojin lets out a sigh of relief when one of the Weevils strikes out, ending this godforsaken inning with Changbin still on third, and no more runs on the Weevils’ part. _We’re still ahead. By a single point._

_Oh god this is awful._

Jeongin stands up next to Woojin, picking up his glove with pale hands. Woojin feels terrible watching him go again, for putting Jeongin through this when he could do it instead - _But can you really?_ A voice in Woojin’s head says. _Are you sure you won’t be worse than Jeongin today?_

“Hey, uh, Coach Yoo, could I borrow Woojin for a minute?”

Woojin frowns up at the voice from the side of the dugout. _Why is he…?_

Assistant Coach Yoo opens her mouth to unleash a storm of snark, but then her face shifts into a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s _assistant_ coach, you flattering frog. But anyway, go ahead.”

She all but shoves Woojin out of the dugout.

Woojin stumbles into the tiny hallway leading to the lockers, straightening himself out. The Weevils’ coach is staring him down, and Woojin can’t read his expression. Woojin had been annoyed by him at first, then he’d gotten around to appreciating him for what he is, but now he’s a little afraid of him. Jinyoung had done some kind of hostile takeover of the team, and Woojin still doesn’t know if it’s legal to switch coaches in the middle of a match like they did.

“What the hell are you doing?” Is the first thing the Weevils’ coach says to break the silence.

Woojin doesn’t know whether to be offended or not. “What?”

“What the hell are you doing on the bench?” Jinyoung runs his hands through his hair in exasperation.

“I- I can’t play today-” Woojin stammers out. _Offended. I should be offended_. “My father beat the shit out of me and locked me in my room for a week! I had to fucking drag myself here-”

“Hold up, what?” Jinyoung staggers backward a step. “I’m so sorry-”

“No, whatever,” Woojin doesn’t like the way the Weevils’ coach is looking at him right now. Woojin doesn’t want his pity, or anyone else’s, no matter how things are going for him. He pulls his face into a scowl. “How the fuck were you supposed to know?”

Jinyoung reaches out gingerly, his hand hovering an inch from Woojin’s arm. “Woojin.. why the fuck are you even here? You should be home- I mean, not here, just not here,” He trails off gently, like he’s singing a baby to sleep.

Woojin sets his jaw. _Because I’m not a quitter,_ he wants to say. _Because I won’t let my father or anyone take this away from me._

Woojin’s shoulders sag. _Not that there’s anything left to take away from me. This game is going horribly. I’m screwing everything up._

Jinyoung purses his lips, his ears reddening in embarrassment. “I’ve done something pretty stupid, then.”

Woojin glares at him. “What did you do?”

“I was trying to help you out, okay? I know you didn’t have many options, so I wanted to give you another-”

“What. Did. You. Do.”

Jinyoung scratches behind his ear, avoiding Woojin’s eyes. “I invited reps from my university to watch the game.”

“They’re here now?” Woojin frowns.

“Yes. Six of them.”

Woojin sucks on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know whether he ought to thank the Weevils’ coach or curse him. _He meant well, obviously. This guy always seems to mean well._

_But why can’t he just leave me the fuck alone for once? Is this what it’s like having an older brother?_

“I’m sorry.” Jinyoung says. “I should’ve talked to you first or whatever, but- yes, it was dumb of me, I’m sorry.”

“The reps are staying till the end of the game?” Woojin asks slowly.

Jinyoung frowns at him then. “Y- Yeah, I think so.”

Woojin looks out to the end of the corridor, where it opens out into the field. The noise from outside creeps in muffled, and the light filters in through the dust a dim, warm color. Everything is muddy and cluttered, right down to Woojin’s mind.

But if there’s anything he’s got in common with his father and his grandfather, it’s the ability to make quick, ruthless, and above all, _selfish_ decisions.

“Thank you.” Woojin says curtly, before turning on his heel to walk out to the bright and noisy field beyond.

 

Chan lifts his eyebrows when the Bears’ Coach Park calls for another timeout. _The Bears haven’t had a game this close in… ever. And_ we’re _the ones putting up a fight, of all teams._

Chan beams with pride.

“Okay boys, listen up,” _Their_ Coach Park says, pulling the Weevils into another huddle. His arms are slung comfortably over Hyunjin’s and Jisung’s shoulders, and it seems so natural that Chan forgets that he’d ever left. “We’re only one point behind, so they’re going to try to recover more of the lead again. Fielding is our weak point-”

“So it’ll be easy for them to do it.” Jisung sighs.

“We just have to work harder, then.” Chan says.

“Objectively, yes and yes.” Coach Park says. “But we have a secret weapon that they don’t.”

Changbin blinks. “Uh, what?”

“We don’t actually give a fuck how this game ends.”

Every single one of the Weevils stares at their coach at that moment. _Either Coach Park’s hit his head really hard, or he’s completely lost it, or he’s been replaced by an evil clone._

_Or a good clone?_

“Hyung.” The face Hyunjin is making at his brother is so cartoonishly confused Chan has to stop himself from laughing. “What the hell?”

“When I started with you guys, I didn’t think you’d even make it past prelims.” Jinyoung shrugs. “Much less semis, or the fucking _finals_. We’ve won already.”

Nobody says anything, but Chan hears a choked sniffle from somewhere to his left.

“And you managed to back the 6-time champions into a corner like this – well, they’re still winning, but we’ve given them a good scare,” Jinyoung smirks. “I’m proud of you guys.”

Chan tries to keep looking at him, but his eyesight’s getting foggy. Changbin’s arm around his shoulder starts to slip.

“You guys have nothing left to prove, so go out there and do what you guys do best.” Jinyoung pats Jisung on the back, because the latter’s just started ugly crying so hard he seems like he’s about to pass out.

“M- make a fucking mess of everything?” Jisung stammers out, hiccupping loudly on his tears.

“I was gonna say ‘have fun,’ but yeah, that’s more accurate.” Jinyoung reaches up to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Go make a fucking mess of everything!”

Chan rubs his eyes dry on his jersey sleeve. He extends his hand to the middle of the huddle. “Weevils on 3?”

The other boys nod and pile their hands in the middle of the huddle. Even Jinyoung puts his hand in, but he winces when the sweaty, dusty boys’ hands touch his own.

Chan clears his throat and yells out, “One, two-”

“WEEVILS!” Jisung shouts.

“HE SAID ON THREE!” Changbin shouts back at him.

“I thought after three!” Hyunjoon shouts.

“WEEEEVILS!” Hyunjin shouts, a few seconds delayed.

“GO TEAM!” Chan hollers.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!” Felix screeches.

“What a fucking mess.” Jinyoung chuckles.

 

Woojin frowns. “I can pitch, Coach.”

“Sit your ass down. I’m not risking it.” Coach Park says, arms crossed so tensely it’s as though he’s trying to tear his sleeves.

“Coach.” Woojin controls his breathing, trying to sound as respectful as he can muster. “I know I’ve asked a lot of things of you, and I’ve not been the most polite-”

“You’ve been a rude brat and if you don’t shut up now, I’m never letting you- MINHO! EYES ON THE BALL!” Coach Park shouts at Minho, who’s currently on his second strike.

Minho raises his middle finger up without even looking back at the dugout.

“For fuck’s sake.” Coach Park slams a fist into the wall of the dugout.

Woojin knows it’s not a good time to be bothering their coach at all, but it never is, anyway. “Coach, I’m only going to ask for one more thing.”

“Sit. Down.” Coach Park says tensely.

“Let me pitch for the last two innings, Coach.” Woojin says, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground. “I’ll never bother you again.”

Coach Park seems to be ignoring him, focused only on Minho as the latter strikes out. “God fucking dammit.”

Woojin gives Jeongin a low five as the latter walks out onto the field. Minho comes marching back in, ignoring Coach Park’s shouting. _It’d be a stretch to call that criticism._ Woojin watches Minho with something akin to admiration as the latter walks past the coach in complete silence, middle fingers raised.

“Coach-” Woojin tries again.

“Woojin, for fuck’s sake. You’ll only make this game worse.”

“Honestly, Coach,” Minho says, resting his feet up on the nearest fence. “There’s not much he can do to make this match any worse.”

Coach Park glares at him. “And whose fault is that?”

Before Minho can let out whatever comeback he’s obviously come up with – his little sneer is back on his face – Assistant Coach Yoo raises her hand.

Coach Park just swivels his glare over to her, like a telescope. “What?” He asks irritably.

“I think Minho’s right.”

Coach Park blinks at his assistant coach. “Say that again, but slowly.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that.” Assistant Coach Yoo blows a bubble with her gum, popping it obnoxiously. “I think you should let Woojin play. He’s still the best player we have.”

Woojin looks up at the assistant coach with hearts in his eyes.

“Not today he isn’t.” Coach Park spits. “He’s a wreck.”

Jeongin gets a second strike on the field, earning a, “Come _on_!” from Coach Park. “Get it together, Yang!”

Woojin curls his fists. “Coach Park, let me play. Please.”

“No.”

“Why not?” The assistant coach asks before Woojin can.

“Because we can’t lose this goddamn match.” Coach Park stops grinding his teeth to shout. “YANG! GET IT TOGETHER!”

Woojin can stand their coach shouting at him, and maybe Minho, but _Jeongin_? _Nope._

“I can’t lose this match, either.” Woojin says tensely. He nods towards the stands. “There are reps up there from H------ University.”

“There’s no way you’re getting scouted with your performance today.” Coach Park scoffs.

Woojin holds up a hand to stop Assistant Coach Yoo, who’s opened her mouth again to speak. He gives her a look that says, _Thanks, but I’ve got this._

“Let me change their minds.” Woojin says. “Let me win this.”

Coach Park struggles to keep a grin off his face. “You really think you’re all that, don’t you?”

“I know I am.” Woojin says, despite the resounding voices in his head telling him otherwise.

 

Chan walks back to the dugout with one arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders – partly to congratulate him for managing to keep the Bears’ lead down to two, and partly because his thighs are starting to kill him. He’s played much longer games than this, but he’s a thousand times more exhausted than usual. _Maybe it’s the camera crew. Cameras make everything bad._

His teammates dump themselves on the bench nceremoniously, looking just about ready to pass out. Chan’s dragging his body out of his catcher’s gear, ready to join them on the bench, when he remembers, _Right, I’m first up for this-_

His thoughts are cut off by a deafening roar from the stands. He turns to look at the field, wondering what’s going on, and that’s when he sees _him_.

Woojin’s walking calmly to the mound, head and shoulders raised high like he owns the entire stadium – _Well, his family actually_ does _, but that’s beside the point_. Woojin’s just standing there, bathed in the warm noontime light like a demigod while he weighs the baseball in his hand. Chan’s mouth goes dry.

“Bang Chan.” Jinyoung taps the handle of the bat against Chan’s arm. “Don’t get distracted.”

“Y- Yeah, Coach.” Chan manages to say, licking his lips to try and get some moisture on them as he walks out onto the field.

Woojin’s doing a few test throws now, and with each loud smack into Minho’s glove, the crowd cheers. If Woojin minds the noise, his face doesn’t show it. He catches the ball with a languid smile that has Chan’s heart drumming around like a cricket trapped in a matchbox.

Chan steps up to the plate, adjusting his grip on the bat every other split second. _Don’t look at him. Don’t look into his eyes. Don’t do it. You can’t handle him right now. Don’t-_

Woojin looks right into Chan’s eyes just before he tosses the pitch, and his gaze is so intense that Chan’s arms tremble.

Chan swings, but the ball’s already hit Minho’s glove. Even the umpire’s frozen on the spot, like he’s trying to work out how the ball _teleported_ to the catcher.

“Strike.” The umpire decides at last, drowned out by the cheers from the crowd.

Chan hasn’t taken his eyes off of Woojin.

Woojin smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to call the next chapter The Beginning of the End but honestly we've got a lot os loose ends to tie up so buckle up I suppose, you're all in for a Ride


	51. “I think I need a beer.” – Lee Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d like to propose a toast!” Changbin says. 
> 
> “We don’t even have water yet.” Hyunjin mutters. 
> 
> “Are we drinking… _not-water_?” Jeongin asks in a very loud whisper. 
> 
> “Yeah, didn’t you know? They always crack out the booze after championship games.” Seungmin says. 
> 
> Jeongin pales. 
> 
> “Come on, Seungmin, don’t scare him.” Hyunjin laughs.
> 
> “I think I need a beer.” Felix says, patting his tummy thoughtfully.
> 
> “Felix, no.” Chan says.
> 
> “None of your fools better take a _drop_ of alcohol.” Jinyoung warns, wagging fingers at all of his boys. “I’m not going to jail.”

“Cap! Come here!”

Chan breaks away from the rest of the boys, who, since the end of the match a minute ago, have been wandering around like ants after you rub out their trail. _Why did you think of that? Weird._

“Y- Yes, Coach?”

Jinyoung snickers at him. “You should be at the head of the line with Coach Im when you go onstage for the awarding shit.”

“Oh. Makes sense. Right.” Chan starts marching forward, hands clenched.

“Hold up,” Jinyoung laughs, catching Chan by the jersey. He looks over him quickly, brushing dirt out of Chan’s fringe with his fingers. “Just shake everyone’s hands and say thank you no matter what they say.”

“Should I bow?”

“Yeah, that’s very on brand for you, I guess.” Jinyoung laughs at a small leaf as he flicks it out of Chan’s hair. “Oh, and Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats.” Jinyoung claps him on the shoulder. “I’m really proud of you.”

Chan frowns. “But-”

“Are you _crying_?” Hyunjin squawks, pointing at his brother.

“EVERYBODY!!!” Jisung yells. “COACH PARK IS CRYING!”

“AAAAWWW COACH PARK!” Changbin pouts, running over to give Jinyoung a hug.

“Stop crying, you’ll muh- make _us_ cry,” Felix blubbers, his little nose already red as a cherry tomato.

“Come on, boys,” Coach Im’s jogging back to them. “They’re calling us up on the stage.”

Chan takes a deep breath. The air is full of sweat and dust and it smells _awful_ , but that’s the least of his concerns.

He knows he’s literally walking up the makeshift stage, but he still doesn’t believe he’s really here, on the _wrong_ side of the TV screen. _Not the ‘wrong’ side, just the ‘other’ side._

It’s weird, to say the least.

Cameras are flashing, reporters are asking questions that Coach Im’s evading like flying cockroaches, and the crowd is deafening. He can’t hear anything the important-looking guys onstage are saying, so he just nods, thanks them, and shakes their hands. He’s starting to get dizzy. _Is this what famous people have to go through? I hate it,_ Chan thinks, through a stiff smile he points in the general direction of some camera.

But he doesn’t keep thinking about it for long, because someone passes him a trophy around as big as his youngest brother.

He carries it awkwardly in his arms, staring at it for some time. He’s never held a trophy before, and it makes him feel funny. Happy, of course, but also… _I wouldn’t mind_ more _trophies._

Changbin shakes his shoulder. “Cap, they’re taking a group photo!” He shouts, somehow, over the noise.

Chan doesn’t even know where to look.

One of the photographers starts waving his hands, telling them to move in closer to get them all in frame.

Jisung must take that to mean _Leap Onto Chan’s Back Without Warning and Knock Him to the Floor, Yeeting The Trophy We’d Just Won Into The Dirt._

Which is, of course, exactly what happens.

Chan finds himself facedown on the stage with no more trophy in his hands and an entire Jisung on his back. Just as he’s about to get up, someone else jumps on top of Jisung, and after that moment it’s a horrible domino effect of all of Chan’s teammates stacking like pancakes until Chan can hardly breathe.

He somehow hears the photographer start to count, “One! Two!”

Chan grunts as he raises one peace sign with all the strength he has.

“Uh,” The announcer says, likely frowning at the pile of dirty teenage boys on the makeshift stage. “Congratulations again to the W------ High Weevils, this year’s first runners-up!”

 

“Thanks for inviting us, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung shakes his former coach’s hand. “Anytime, Coach.”

“Great game.” Another of the university representatives says, extending a hand to shake Jinyoung’s. “It was pretty evenly matched until those last two innings.”

“Oh, those were just brutal.” Jinyoung’s former coach laughs. “Your boys ate _dust_.”

“Well, that’s Kim Woojin for you.” Jinyoung shrugs, trying to contain a proud smile. “He’s not MVP for no reason.”

“Just a question,” One of the reps, the only woman among them, asks.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you invite us to watch someone _not_ on _your_ team?”

Jinyoung had figured they might ask him that, but he hadn’t prepared an answer.

“His loyalty’s still to _our_ team, obviously.” The coach laughs, clapping Jinyoung on the arm. “Nice one finding this kid.”

Jinyoung laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, thanks.”

“He’s Kim Chil-hyun’s grandson.” One of the reps says.

“Is he? That explains a lot.”

“We’ve probably got stiff competition for him, then.”

“From what I know, I don’t think you do.” Jinyoung says. “Though it’d be really sad if you don’t get him after all.”

Jinyoung’s former coach lets out a loud, nervous laugh. “Don’t be a little shit,” He mutters through a stiff smile.

“Sorry, Coach, but it’s true.” Jinyoung notices someone waving from a few steps down. “Sorry, I’ve got to meet someone else. Thanks again for coming, everyone, take care going home.”

Jinyoung skirts past the reps to the small figure leaning against the handrail on the lowest level of the bleachers.

“Did we make a bet on this game? I don’t remember anymore.”

“Nice to see you too, Mark.” Jinyoung laughs, going in for a hug.

Mark holds Jinyoung an arm’s distance away. “No, I remember! You promised that our guys would beat Coach Park’s guys.”

“Didn’t they?” Jinyoung arches an eyebrow.

“Jinyoung, you delusional bastard, we lost by a _landslide._ ”

“Oh come on, barring Woojin’s…” Jinyoung screws up his face trying to think of a word. “Whatever that was, we did _kinda_ have them beat. Well, at least we gave Coach Park a couple nervous breakdowns.”

“That you did.” Mark nods approvingly. “I thought he was gonna pop an artery when that kid started _tap dancing_.”

“Oh, yeah, Felix is a gem.” Jinyoung says proudly.

“We _still_ lost.” Mark says.

“What’s it gonna take to get you to let that go?” Jinyoung asks.

“I don’t know,” Mark shrugs. “Buy me lunch?”

“Flirt.” Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you dinner. I already have lunch plans, unless you don’t mind a lot of noise.”

Mark’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wha- Oh. _Oh_.” Mark smiles. “I’d love to come, you big old softy.”

“Shut up.”

 

Jinyoung walks back to the Weevils’ lockers to find it quiet. The echoes of cheers from the Bears’ locker room bounce down the hallway and through the door, sounding very lonely by the time they reach the uncharacteristically serious Weevils.

Jinyoung claps his hands together loudly. “What’re you all so gloomy for?”

Felix’s sigh seems to come from deep in his lungs. “We lost, Coach.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t any of you listen to me?” Jinyoung says. “The Bears were just barely able to save face. _We_ won.”

“That’s really nice and all, Coach,” Jisung says. “But like, officially, we _lost_. By like seven points.”

“It’s on paper.” Hyunjin adds.

“Stuff on paper hardly ever tell the truth. You guys are the better team.” Jinyoung says. “Woojin’s a better player than your entire team, granted, but their they’re screwed without him.”

He looks for Chan’s reaction, but Chan isn’t even in the locker room. _Wonder where he went,_ Jinyoung thinks, without any plans to find out.

“He’s gonna be gone next year.” Changbin says suddenly, grinning. “We can get them next year.”

“That’s the spirit, Changbin.” Jinyoung pats Changbin on the head, earning a death glare from the latter. Jinyoung only laughs. “Anyway, let’s go out and have lunch. What do you guys want?”

“Beef.” Chan says, standing in the doorway. Jinyoung hadn’t even noticed him come in, so he jumps.

“Beef!” The other boys agree. “BEEF!”

“Well, yeah, I figured as much.” Jinyoung says. “I already reserved some tables at my favorite barbecue place.”

They all start scrambling to shove everything into their bags and make for the door. “BEEF!”

“ONE! TWO! _THREE_!” Jisung shouts.

“SHAWTY GOT THEM APPLE-BOTTOM _BEEF_!” Changbin starts on cue.

“ _BEEF_!” Felix screams in echo.

“BEEF WITH THE FUR!” Chan shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.

“NASTY!”

 

“Do you have a reservation?”

Woojin frowns at the people enjoying late Sunday lunches in the restaurant. He turns back to Minho. “I thought you said this place was usually empty.”

Minho looks up from his phone with a phony innocent look. “Huh? Oh, well, that’s _weird._ ”

“Don’t you have private rooms?” Coach Park demands, and the poor waitress can only sweat and shake her head.

“Sorry, sir, but the private rooms are by reservation only-”

“Let’s go somewhere else.” Coach Park says.

“No, this place is good, I swear.” Minho says, still texting someone that Woojin assumes to be Minho’s boyfriend. He looks up at the waitress. “We have a reservation.”

The waitress’ frown deepens until her small face looks like an Etch-a-Sketch. “Uh, under which name?”

Minho doesn’t blink as he says. “Park Jinyoung.”

It takes only a moment, but Woojin and Coach Park snort when they realize what’s going on.

“What is it?” Jeongin asks, tugging on Woojin’s sleeve. “I don’t get it.”

“Uh, Park Jinyoung, reservation for 30?”

“We’re a little over 30.” Coach Park says. “More like 45.”

“O- Oh.” The waitress frowns. “We’ll have to add a few tables, but-”

The door to the restaurant opens with a chime. “Oh god why are there so many people.”

“It’s okay, we have a reservation.”

Woojin watches in mild amusement as the Weevils’ Coach Park squeezes his way through the Bears to the waitress. “Reservation for Park Jinyoung.”

The waitress, who’s shaking like a chihuahua in the arms of a stranger, looks from elder Coach Park to the younger one. “B- But he said…”

“Not this shit _again_.” Someone says from behind the Weevils’ coach. Woojin’s only a little surprised to see the camp coordinator from the training camp, now wearing normal, non-white clothes.

The Bears’ coach holds up a driver’s license close enough for the waitress to read his name. “Please set up our tables already.”

The waitress looks back at Jinyoung in distress. He whips out his own license in reply.

“B- But…” The waitress looks just about ready to implode.

Then the Weevils’ coach starts laughing, so hard that he has to lean on the camp coordinator to keep from stumbling over. The Bears’ Coach Park’s lips twitch, and for a second Woojin think he’s about to get angry.

Then Coach Park – the _Bears’_  Coach Park – starts laughing. It’s a rumbly, genuine laugh, and it’s probably the strangest thing Woojin’s ever heard.

“We’ll all sit together.” The Bears’ coach says to the bewildered waitress.

“I’m only paying for my team’s food, okay.” The Weevils’ coach says nervously.

“It’s okay, I’ll pay for everything.” Woojin says. Jinyoung turns to him, frowning. “I mean, my _father_ will.”

 

After waiting three quarters of an hour, the restaurant is pretty much empty, so the two teams flood in like a plague, scraping the tables around on the floor and dragging the chairs. The waitress can do nothing but stand back, partly hiding behind a menu, while her beloved restaurant is turned upside-down.

“I’d like to propose a toast!” Changbin says.

“We don’t even have _water_ yet.” Hyunjin mutters.

“Are we drinking… _not-water_?” Jeongin asks in a very loud whisper.

“Yeah, didn’t you know? They always crack out the booze after championship games.” Seungmin says.

Jeongin pales.

“Come on, Seungmin, don’t scare him.” Hyunjin laughs.

“I think I need a beer.” Felix says, patting his tummy thoughtfully.

“Felix, _no_.” Chan says.

“None of your fools better take a _drop_ of alcohol.” Jinyoung warns, wagging fingers at all of his boys. “I’m not going to jail.”

“Hey Cap, can you order for all of us?” Changbin shouts.

“I, um,” Chan makes a face. “Coach Park should probably do it, since he’s paying.”

“I’m not paying, Woojin is.” Jinyoung says.

Chan’s face goes red. “Well, in that case, uh-”

“Order whatever you want.” Woojin says, frowning at the menu as intensely as some people look at their holy texts.

“Ok.”

 

Felix is having an _afternoon_.

There’s no seating arrangement, _obviously_ , but how the _hell_ did he end up across the restaurant from Changbin? Felix narrows his eyes and watches Changbin laugh at something Jisung had said – _Jisung’s never_ that _funny._

_I don’t deserve this._ Felix grumbles as he picks up another slice of pork.

He’d survived his first championship game ever, and his dads haven’t stopped texting – they even called earlier – about how sorry they are that they couldn’t make it. Everyone else’s family was there, except his… and Changbin’s.

_Felix had noticed, of course, when after the boys had come out of the locker room his teammates had been tackled by their parents with a lot of “You did well”s and “We’ll get em next year”s. Felix’s parents had been busy, so he wasn’t expecting anyone to hug him after the game._

_“Hey.”_

_Felix had turned then, to find Changbin walking over with his hands stuffed in his pockets._

_“Hi.” Felix had managed in his surprise._

_Changbin had given him a sad smile. “Your parents didn’t make it either?”_

_“No, I’m parentless too.” Felix had said. “I mean, for today. Just now. I_ have _parents. They_ exist _.”_

_Changbin had laughed and put an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “I guess we have to be each other’s family for today, then.”_

_Felix’s heart had drummed to a complete stop. “Uh hehe yeah!”_

_Changbin had patted him on the arm, then turned to someone who was calling him over for a photo. He hadn’t called Felix over. No one had wanted a photo with Felix, so he’d hung around the side of the crowd until Coach Park had asked who needed a lift to the restaurant._

“Hey Felix, could you pass that bowl of rice?” Jeongin asks.

“Okay.” Felix hands the bowl over, still watching Changbin laugh so hard at something Hyunjin had said that he’d needed to drink water. Felix makes a face. _Even Hyunjin? Seriously?_

“You okay?” Jeongin asks.

Felix looks up. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry we beat you guys.” Jeongin says.

Felix smiles despite his best efforts. “You guys deserved to win.”

“Not so sure about me and the other guys,” Jeongin grimaces. “but Woojin-hyung did.”

“Yeah, he did.” Felix looks warily at the brooding senior at the end of the table. Felix can’t understand him at all, not that he’d ever claimed to. _Still, he’d just won his fourth straight championship… pretty much single-handedly… I’d at least smile a_ little _if I were him. Does he ever smile?_

Jeongin nudges Felix with his foot under the table. ‘Don’t,’ He mouths, shaking his head violently.

Felix quickly looks down at his empty plate, but he can still feel the Bears’ captain’s heavy stare.

_What’s it gonna take to make that guy happy?_

“Excuse me,” Jinyoung pats Woojin on the back as he passes. He could definitely fit behind Woojin’s seat, but he just wanted to check on him. “You good?”

“Yes.” Woojin’s been poking at a bowl of peanuts for around half an hour now. Jinyoung’s sure it isn’t anxiety from giving his credit card up to these – Jinyoung looks around the restaurant – _hooligans’_ appetites.

Jinyoung’s about to ask another prying older brother question when someone taps him on the arm.

“Hey, Jinyoung, I’ve got to go. Thanks for everything,”

Jinyoung sighs at Jaebum, who’s looking antsy. _As always._

“I’ll just walk Coach Im out,” Jinyoung pats Woojin on the shoulder.

“Hm.”

Jinyoung closes the door gently behind him, watching Jaebum waddle to his car. _He waddles now. Such a dad._

Jaebum’s fumbling around his very deep pockets for his keys. “Isn’t it kinda funny that we only got back to the finals when you came back?”

Jinyoung tries not to sigh again. “That was the kids, not me.” He says, though he knows that’s not entirely true.

“Come on, Jinyoung, being modest never suited you,” Jaebum chuckles halfheartedly. “You’re a better coach than I am. The kids are lucky to have you.”

“I’m sorry for taking over like that, I shouldn’t have-”

“Like you said, we’re even.” Jaebum says curtly. “I never got to apologize for what I did in high school.”

“Oh come on, it’s not-” Jinyoung groans, rubbing his temples. “You know what, I’ve had it with this shit.”

“What?”

“It’s all Coach Park’s fault.” Jinyoung says. “He pitted us against each other for the entire high school.”

Jaebum frowns. “I don’t think he would-”

“He thought it would make us better if we had competition.”

“Maybe it did. We won, didn’t we?” Jaebum shrugs. “He’s a good coach.”

“No, he’s a passable coach and a terrible person, Jaebum. Forget winning or losing. He fucks up everyone he coaches and it never fucking leaves them-” Jinyoung stops himself and takes a breath to calm himself down. “You treat the boys kindly. That immediately makes you a better coach.”

Jaebum stops looking for his keys and fixes Jinyoung with a weird look. It’s not cold, or mean, just a little wistful. “I wish we could’ve been friends.”

“We still could.” Jinyoung says.

“Maybe.” Jaebum shrugs, but he doesn’t look convinced. He suddenly pulls his keys out of his pocket then, and unlocks his car.

Jinyoung chews on his lip. “Take care.”

“You too.” Jaebum opens the door, then he pauses, without looking back at Jinyoung. “Oh, and I was planning to wait for the end of the schoolyear to tell anyone, but I’m leaving.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows lift. “Really? Where to?”

“G------- University need an assistant coach.”

Jinyoung frowns. “That’s pretty far from here.”

“We figured it’d be better for the kids to grow up outside the city.” Jaebum gives Jinyoung an excited grin. “Fresh air and trees to climb and stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You’ll know when you’re a dad, too.” Jaebum says, and though Jinyoung knows he means nothing deeper by it, it cuts somewhere deep in Jinyoung’s pride. Jinyoung knows for a fact that (1) he doesn’t really have any intentions of becoming a dad anytime soon, being Hyunjin’s brother is hard enough, and (2) it’s just the leftover resentment from the contrived competition Coach Park forced them into, but it still hurts him.

“I guess.”

“Good luck with the kids.” Jaebum says, with a dorky little wave.

Jinyoung has half a mind to correct him, but he gives in and says. “Good luck with your… actual kids. Send Nayeon my love.”

Jinyoung realizes his mistake immediately. _Goddammit, Jinyoung. You left your brain at home, didn’t you? HOW COULD YOU FORGET THAT HE’S MARRIED TO YOUR EX?_

“Oh, she’ll love that.” Jaebum chuckles. “ _Jinyoung sends his love_. She’ll be tickled for _weeks_.”

Jinyoung can’t help his ears from burning up. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like-”

“Yeah, don’t worry, she’s _way_ over you. See you around, Jinyoung.” Jaebum gives Jinyoung one last little salute before shutting the car door.

Jinyoung watches until Jaebum’s car disappears around a corner. _It’s been almost ten years… When am I ever going to stop feeling like this?_

_Fuck Coach Park, seriously._

 

Jinyoung walks back into the restaurant to find everyone strangely quiet. He wonders if he’s taken a wrong turn and walked into a church, but it smells strongly of barbecue, which churches _never_ do, as far as Jinyoung knows.

Coach Park is standing up, like he’d just told them off for something. Jinyoung clenches his fists.

“While on that note, I’d like to announce that Assistant Coach Yoo will be taking my place starting next week.” Coach Park says.

Assistant Coach Yoo frowns for a whole minute before realizing what he’d just said. “What, really?”

“Until the school finds a suitable replacement, yes.”

Jinyoung expects the assistant coach to make a face at that, like she usually does at everything her head coach says, but she keeps beaming.

“Great.” Assistant Coach Yoo says, settling into her seat with her hands folded in her lap.

“Congrats, Coach.” Seungmin says with an equally smug smile.

Jinyoung sits back down in his seat, watching Woojin’s expression with mild curiosity. He’s about to quietly ask Woojin what’s up when the latter lifts his glass of cola.

“I’d like to propose to toast to Coach Park.” Woojin says with a wide, unreadable grin. The other Bears follow, frowning at each other.

Coach Park straightens up proudly. “Well, thank you, Cap-”

“I’d like to say it’s been great having you as a coach, but it hasn’t.” Woojin says.

Coach Park lowers his glass. “You ungrateful brat-”

“Enjoy your retirement, asshole.” Woojin continues, unfazed as he lifts his glass higher. “Here’s to you not messing anyone else up.”

Coach Park slams a hand on the table, but it’s hardly heard above the deafening clinking of glasses and snickers from the boys, Bears and Weevils included. Jinyoung smiles and clinks his own glass against Woojin’s.

_No, he’s fine,_ Jinyoung thinks when Woojin gives him a toothy smile back before bursting out laughing. Woojin keeps laughing as Coach Park storms out of the restaurant, his face a blotchy red down to his neck. _He’s going to be just fine._

“While we’re announcing things, uh, Weevils, listen up, I’ve got an announcement!”

Changbin frowns at their captain. _What could he possibly…_

“We’ve counted the votes for the next captain.” Chan continues.

Hyunjin sputters his drink all over the plate of not-yet-barbecued raw pork in front of him. “ _Really_?”

“Gosh, Hyunjin,” Changbin mutters, picking up tissue to dab the soda off of the pork.

“Our captain next year is gonna be…Drumroll please!” Chan says, and Felix starts drumming his hands on the table hard enough to have everyone’s cutlery jumping around like they’d been shocked. “…Seo Changbin!”

Changbin accidentally grabs a handful of raw pork in his hands. “ _W- What_?”

The entire restaurant starts cheering, even the one unfortunate couple who’d picked a bad time to have a lunch date.

Changbin drops the pork and starts wiping the juice off his hands, but Chan’s run around the table somehow and tackled him in a bear hug. Before he can say anything, Changbin finds himself pulled to his feet and getting clapped on the back and one arm-hugged by everyone on the team (and a few others, for no reason whatsoever), though it’s going to be days before things really sink in.

“Congrats!”

“YAAAAZE KING!”

“ChangBIN YEEEES!”

“Hey.” Changbin taps Felix on the shoulder, afraid he hadn’t been heard over the other boys.

Felix turns, looking so surprised that even his freckles seem shocked. “Huh?”

Changbin doesn’t know how you _ask_ someone to congratulate you without sounding like an utter asshole, then he wonders why he’d even come all the way here to Felix in the first place.

“Oh, uh,” Felix stands up, his knees knocking into the table and tipping someone’s drink over as he does. “Congrats, New Cap.”

Changbin doesn’t know if he likes the sound of that title on him, but Felix is selling it pretty well. “Thanks.”

Felix reaches out and shakes Changbin’s hand aggressively.

_Well that’s not what I was expecting._ Changbin can only laugh and shake Felix’s hand just as hard.

 

“Oh, right, we took a vote, too,” Assistant – _No, HEAD COACH_ – Yoo says. She nudges Seungmin. “Have you finished counting?”

“I thought we were waiting for…” Seungmin nods not-so-discreetly in Woojin’s direction.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Coach Yoo leans on the table and looks gently at Woojin. “You can just, uh, text me your vote?”

“What does it matter? I won’t be here next year.” Woojin says.

Coach Yoo glances briefly at Seungmin before turning back to Woojin with a heavy sigh.

“Jeez, hyung, we’re trying to respect your opinion,” Jeongin chuckles nervously.

“Sorry,” Woojin gives them an apologetic smile. “But I don’t think my opinion matters here. Who’d you guys vote for?”

Coach Yoo grins. “Hold on, let’s get some drama going.” She claps her hands loudly. “Okay, listen up Bears, we have a new captain too! Boys, drumroll.”

Seungmin and Jeongin drum their hands on the table like men possessed. Woojin laughs and drums his hands on his lap.

“Our captain next year is going to be the one, the only…” Coach Yoo says in her best impression of a ringmaster voice. Somewhere, Hugh Jackman is deeply offended. “… Minho!”

Woojin’s too surprised to celebrate, but at least the other boys aren’t. They whoop and clap, and the Weevils, who’d only just calmed down, start cheering along with them.

“Hold on.” Seungmin says, squinting up and down the table. “Where _is_ he?”

Coach Yoo looks around. “Huh.”

 

_An hour earlier_

“You should be having lunch with the other guys.”

Minho rolls his eyes at Jisung. He wipes Jisung’s sweaty palm on his jeans before holding Jisung’s hand. “My team wins every year. I’m tired of having lunch with them. This is way more important.”

“I’m just warning you, they’re not…” Jisung frowns, choosing his words carefully. “I mean, they’re nice, but maybe they won’t be nice when they find out-”

“Then we’ll see.” Minho grips Jisung’s sweaty hands in his. They come to a stop outside the café, which is darkened even though it’s the middle of the day. A blue SUV is parked outside the door, which has the sign turned to CLOSED.

The sign wobbles as the door flies open. Jisung’s aunt leans out, her hair frizzy and out of place. “Han Jisung! Get changed for lunch right fucking- _Minho_? What are you doing here? Didn’t I give you the day off?”

“Yeah, you did,” Minho smiles.

“He’s here for lunch.” Jisung says quietly, wiggling their clasped hands.

Jisung’s aunt looks down at their hands, then cocks an eyebrow up at Jisung. “Are you sure you wanna drop that on them right now? My mom’s up there.”

Minho feels Jisung’s hand get clammier, so he squeezes it reassuringly.

“Yeah,” Jisung says. “I think I’m ready for that shit. And you and Uncle love Minho already, I doubt it’s gonna be hard to convince Grandma. You know how she is with handsome guys.”

Minho elbows him in the ribs, his cheeks turning pink.

Jisung’s aunt smiles and leans forward to give Jisung a peck on the forehead. Then she claps Jisung’s cheeks in her palms and squishes them. “You know I’ve got your back, right? No matter what?”

“Yesh Auntie Shana pleash let gowwof my fashe,” Jisung says, trying to wriggle his face free.

Jisung’s aunt lets go of his face to pat Minho on the head. “I’ll go on up ahead and put another setting out for you. Lock the door after you come in.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Please, call me Auntie.”

She goes back into the café, leaving Minho and Jisung on the front step.

“I _still_ think she’s probably a lesbian.” Minho laughs, squeezing Jisung’s hand. It’s _very_ cold. “Hey, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“No, hahaha.” Jisung laughs, but his eyes are full of fear.

Minho frowns at him. “You serious?”

“No, welp, hah, oh well,” Jisung’s voice squeaks.

“We can do this some other time if you’re not comfortable-”

Jisung kisses Minho hard, pressing his cold lips against Minho’s like he’s trying to leech off some warmth. Minho rolls his eyes, but kisses back. _With tongue, of course._

“We’ve got this.” Minho puts an arm around Jisung’s shoulder as he leads him into the café. “You said so yourself, there’s no way your grandma won’t love me.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Jisung laughs nervously.

“Oh come on. We’ve got the power of Auntie Sana on our side,” Minho pecks Jisung on the cheek. “We’re pretty much invincible right now.”

Jisung leans his head on Minho’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

_Present_

 

Chan’s standing by the door, watching the last of his teammates file out of the restaurant. He feels a little bad for the restaurant’s staff, because it looks like either a war or a music festival’s been through here.

“Need a lift?” Coach Park – _the only Coach Park who matters_ – asks. He’s got Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin trailing after him like ducklings. “I’ve got space for one more.”

“No thanks, my family’s picking me up. They just had lunch at the hot pot place.” Chan says.

“Mmm hot pot.” Hyunjin says, as if she hadn’t been eating barbecue for the past three hours.

“Let’s get some hot pot on the way home.” Felix suggests. “To go.”

“ _Take out hot pot_?” Changbin wheezes at the idea.

“Do you guys all have tapeworms or something?” Jinyoung makes a face at them. He turns back to Chan. “Anyway, we’ll be going now.”

“Bye, guys.” Chan gives each of his teammates a hug. After a half-second of thought, he gives Coach Park a hug, too, and he’s surprised when the latter actually hugs him back.

“See ya, Cap!” Changbin waves as they leave the restaurant.

“You’re the Cap now, though,” Felix says.

“Not until Cap leaves.” Changbin says.

“So are you the Future Cap?” Hyunjin asks. “ _FuCap_?”

“ _You_ fuck off,” Changbin snaps at him.

Coach Park laughs.

Chan looks back at Woojin, who’s still settling the bill. Chan doesn’t even want to know how much it is, because he’s sure he won’t be able to sleep tonight if he sees it. On his own, he’s probably eaten enough meat to build another Felix.

Woojin smiles and thanks the waitress from earlier as he pockets his wallet again.

Chan hears the front door open.

“Channie!” His mom comes running into the restaurant. “I’m so sorry! Were you the last one left?”

Chan doesn’t look back at Woojin, but he feels Woojin looking his way. “Yeah.”

“Sorry, your brother had to use the bathroom and- Well, anyway, let’s go. We’re having dinner at grandpa’s tonight-” Chan’s mom looks over Chan’s shoulder. “Oh! Hello, Woojin!”

Woojin nods politely as he passes them. “Hello, good afternoon.”

Chan’s mom smiles. “How are you getting home? Do you need a lift?” She asks, before Chan can stop her.

He grimaces and mouths, _Sorry,_ at Woojin.

“No, thank you, my ride’s here.” Woojin says, nodding in the direction of the Range Rover parked outside.

Chan’s mom blinks at the car for a moment like she’s starstruck. “Oh, of course. Take care going home, Woojin.”

“You too,” Woojin says, and his eyes flit over to Chan for just a moment. It’s barely a second, but this confusing cocktail of emotions passes over Woojin’s face in that one moment, and Chan can’t pick out a single one of them. Later, when he’s lying awake in bed, he’ll replay the scene in his head and see something like a glimmer of hope. He might even see a little uneasiness, like Woojin’s no longer sure about what he’d said earlier. Woojin might even say something more, like, “I’ll call you” or even just “See you around, Chan.” But after a few hours of not sleeping, Chan will stop replaying the scene, because he’ll no longer remember what’s real and what’s just a projection. The truth settles in eventually.

_Woojin’s right. As usual._

_You have problems, Chan. He has problems. You have to study and pass. He has to deal with his family. Things are hard enough as they are without complicating them further._

_You’re better off without him._

And that’s when Chan will turn to the wall and bury his eyes in his pillow so his siblings don’t see anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe the finals are over? Neither can I lmao thanks 2 all the people who've been reading this thing for the past 6 months of their lives or so, you guys are legends... to everyone who just got onboard and "read the whole thing in 1 night" you are a different kind of legend and i am Concerned for you but still grateful
> 
> I asked my lil sister “should I squeeze in some changlix or go straight to the plot?” and she yELLED at me “CHANGLIX! CHANGLIX! LET’S DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY!!!! DOODOODOODOODOOODO” while stomping around gracelessly in our room.
> 
> So yeah, you’ve got her to thank for the changlix crumbs in this chapter.


	52. Jeongin-𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jeongin. It’s called a stir- _fry_ , not a stir- _burn_.”
> 
> “Fuck off, Cap, you can’t do any better.” 
> 
> “I’m not your captain anymore.” Woojin picks up a spoon to scrape the bits of burnt meat and bell peppers off the pan. 
> 
> “Right. Weird.” Jeongin shudders. “I just can’t call _Minho_ ‘Cap,’ it doesn’t suit him.”
> 
> “And yet you voted for him.”
> 
> “It’s not like he really gave any of us a choice,” Jeongin pouts. “He’d probably beat my ass if I didn’t vote for him.”
> 
> “ _Sure_.” Woojin laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please brace yourselves for a Time Skip™

_Half a year later_

“We could go somewhere else, you know.” Jihyo says, looping her arm in Woojin’s as they walk down the sidewalk. The pavement’s got a lot of cracks that she had _not_ dressed for, and she needs to practically hang on him just to keep her sandal heel from getting stuck in one of them. “We could go _literally_ anyway else.”

“This shop’s the only one with the flowers you like.” Woojin says tensely. “Besides, he might not even be there.”

“It’s twenty minutes after school ended- Oh fuck,” Jihyo stumbles on a crack, and Woojin catches her by the forearms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Woojin extends an arm for Jihyo to hold as they start down the sidewalk again.

“He’s definitely there.”

“And so what? We’re just here to buy your bouquet and it doesn’t matter who sells it to us.”

“Woojin-”

Woojin pulls the door to the shop open so hard that the little bell bounces around, chiming anxiously. “After you.”

Jihyo purses her lips as she walks into the flower shop.

 

Chan plucks his earbuds out when he hears the bell on the door go wild. _It’s probably that couple who were trying to return their flowers after an entire day of-_

It’s not.

It’s surreal, to say the least, that he finds Woojin standing in the shop, turned to the side, looking at a list of prices on the wall like he’s trying to commit it to memory. _His new haircut looks great on him. His shirt looks great on him, too. It’s probably because he’s grown taller. Among other things._

Chan realizes he’s just staring with his mouth slightly ajar when Jihyo clears her throat.

“Oh, uh, welcome to Miracle Flower Shop.” Chan says, looking right at Jihyo. “How can I help you?”

“Hi Chan, I just wanted to place an order for a bouquet.” Jihyo says quickly, like she’s trying to get this entire thing over with as quickly as possible. Chan can’t blame her.

“Sure,” Chan lays a clearbook open on the counter. “Do you want to design your own or just use one of the generic ones?”

“I’ll have the, uh…” Jihyo flips through the pages. “Oh, this one. The one with the little bubble flower things.”

“ _Lilies of the valley_.” Woojin corrects, still facing the wall like he’s on a time-out.

“Yeah, those.” Jihyo frowns at him. She turns back to Chan with a smile. “I know it’s kinda last-minute but will you be able to make it by this Friday?”

Chan frowns. “Not sure, but I’ll ask. What time Friday?”

“The ceremony ends around 6 in the evening, so I guess my chauffeur could drop by at 5 pm?” Jihyo says.

“Make it 5:30 so the flowers aren’t wilted in the photo.” Woojin mutters.

“Fine.” Jihyo scowls at him, then turns back to Chan with a forced sweet expression. “5:30, please.”

“Friday, 5:30, got it.” Chan says, scribbling it into the record book. “We have your contact details, so we’ll call if the bouquet can’t make it. Will you be paying now or-”

“Woojin.” Jihyo elbows Woojin in the back.

Woojin turns around, glaring down at Jihyo – _he’s_ definitely _taller than he used to be,_ Chan notes. Then Woojin reaches into his pocket for his wallet and places a black credit card on the table.

Chan’s hand had been extended, ready to take the card, so he just draws his hand back to his side awkwardly. “Thanks.”

“Thanks.” Woojin echoes dryly.

Chan holds up the POS, but Woojin’s turned to the wall again. “You aren’t going to check how much it costs?”

“He’s an asshole like that.” Jihyo says, checking the screen on the terminal. “Oh, did you want one, Woojin?”

Woojin frowns at her. “One what?”

“A bouquet.” Jihyo says. “You’re graduating too.”

“No thanks. I don’t see the point.”

Jihyo gives Chan an apologetic smile. “Like I said. An asshole.”

Chan had only heard about Woojin offhand from Jisung’s stories from his boyfriend, kind of like breathing second- or thirdhand smoke.

“ _Woojin’s the top of his class again last semester,”_ Jisung had said one time they were waiting in line for a concert.

“ _Nobody cares,”_ Changbin had said, giving Chan the fiercely loyal look of someone completely in the dark.

The thing is, Chan _had_ cared, despite himself. He _had_ been happy for Woojin, despite the fact that Woojin had hurt him without a second thought. _Maybe that’s just how I am,_ he thinks sadly, as he finds Woojin just as he’d been when Chan had first met him. _It’s like I’d spent months on a save file just to accidentally delete it,_ Chan thinks, studying Woojin’s side profile as he taps Woojin’s card.

The POS lights up red.

“Sorry,” Chan says. “Do you have another-”

Woojin’s already pulling out another card. He slides it over the counter at Chan without even glancing his way.

Chan takes the card. _He’d seemed so nice, back then. Was he really? Or was I just imagining that, because I wanted so badly for it to be true? Maybe Woojin’s really an asshole._

The terminal blinks red again.

Chan looks up at Woojin’s whose brow is furrowing in irritation. “Sorry-”

Woojin puts another card onto the counter, but as he does, a folded piece of paper falls out of his wallet and onto the floor.

Chan doesn’t point it out, and just taps the card against the POS. To his relief, the payment goes through.

“God, Woojin, stop littering.” Jihyo clicks her tongue, plucking the folded piece of paper off the floor. She unfolds it. “This receipt’s _practically a year old_ for fuck’s sake!”

Woojin’s eyes widen suddenly, and he snatches the receipt back. “I was keeping that.”

“What for?” Jihyo makes a face. She notices Chan’s just holding out Woojin’s credit card, so she takes it. “Thanks, Chan.”

“You’re welcome.” Chan bows politely.

“Jesus.” Jihyo groans and takes the receipt from Woojin while he’s busy putting his cards back into his wallet. She turns to Chan. “Do you have a trash can in here?”

“I can throw it for you.”

“Aw, Chan, you don’t have to-”

“Really, it’s fine.” Chan takes the receipt from her.

“Thanks so much,” Jihyo’s smile is warm and very, _very_ sorry. “We’ll be going now. Come on, Woojin.”

Woojin looks back at the receipt again while Jihyo drags him out of the flower shop, but if he wanted to take it back again, he does nothing else to show it.

Chan’s still standing there with a crumbling receipt in his hands when the bell above the door finally comes to a stop.

He looks down.

The receipt is faded and some letters and numbers have been rubbed out over time, but Chan can still piece together that it’s from some café, and Woojin had bought two hot chocolates at 1:38 in the morning.

_This can’t be that time…?_

Chan looks up to find Jihyo and Woojin arguing as the cross the street, with Jihyo’s hand tucked into Woojin’s. For all his iciness towards her, Woojin doesn’t flinch at it, so they must hold hands often. _Which would make sense since they’re… I mean, he bought her flowers and everything._

Chan looks back down at the receipt in his hands.

_So why was he still keeping this?_

_“Practically a year ago”, a little past 1:38 AM_

“Look at her,” Chan nudges Woojin in the ribs, nodding towards a girl seated a few tables away in the café.

Woojin shoots him a dirty look and says, “Keep your voice down, she can hear us.”

“I’m concussed.” Chan smiles at him.

“You’re not hard of hearing.” Woojin scowls back.

“You’re mean.”

Woojin just huffs and looks at the girl Chan had pointed out. She seems to be just a few years older than them, but he can hardly tell with her face buried in a huge textbook fringed with sticky tabs. She only looks away from the book to frown at the bluish screen of her laptop every now and then, and she doesn’t seem bothered by Chan talking about her at all.

“She probably has an exam tomorrow.” Woojin says.

“You mean today.” Chan nods at the wall clock.

Woojin’s heart breaks for her.

Chan slides down on his seat to snuggle into Woojin’s shoulder. Woojin frowns down at him, ready to tell him off for making the other people in the café uncomfortable – _if they even care –_ but Chan looks pretty chilly in nothing but his flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers.

“That’s gonna be us next year.” Woojin says, already dreading university. _I_ already _study like that sometimes._

“Not me.”

“Don’t say things like that.” Woojin shimmies his shoulder to jostle Chan’s head. “You _will_ get into college. _We’ll_ make sure of it.”

“That’s not it,” Chan chuckles, adjusting his head on Woojin’s shoulder in a way that lets his breath fan onto Woojin’s neck. Woojin thinks he hates it, but he’s not asking Chan to stop, is he? “I just figured that school’s not worth killing yourself over. Studying that hard? Not worth it.”

“It’s not everything,” Woojin says defensively. “But school’s important.”

Chan gives Woojin a teasing grin. “Why?”

“Because you won’t have a future without it.” Woojin can’t believe he’s humoring him.

“Maybe I can.”

“Good luck getting a decent, stable job that pays the rent and the utilities and _everything_.”

Chan giggles. “The future sounds horrible.”

“ _Starving_ to death sounds horrible.” Woojin says.

“Come on, no need to get so dramatic,” Chan twines their fingers together, fiddling with Woojin’s fingers. “I just think that giving up today for tomorrow isn’t as wise as everyone seems to think it is. People suffer every day for a tomorrow that they’re not even sure will come. You what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“We should live well every day.” Chan says casually. “Like that song you like, _No day but today_.”

Woojin pulls his lips into a line to stop himself from smiling. “Chan, they were singing about a terminal disease. Which neither of us have, I hope.” Woojin raps his knuckles on the wooden table to make a point.

“Still.” Chan insists.

“ _Still_ ,” Woojin echoes, unable to stop himself from smiling. “If you went around doing whatever you wanted, you’d end up regretting it eventually. Like I’m _definitely_ going to regret not sleeping tonight.”

Chan looks up at Woojin. His face is too close to Woojin’s for them to really look at each other. “If you’d been a responsible person and slept tonight, would that guarantee that you’ll be happy tomorrow?”

“No.” Woojin admits. “But it would guarantee that I wouldn’t be a fucking zombie.”

“The day will be over before you know it.” Chan shrugs against Woojin’s side, his body altogether too warm for someone walking around in just pajamas. “But times like this, they’re forever.”

Woojin’s about to say something about how corny that is, but he looks down at the fluff of Chan’s hair over his puffy, sleepy face, and the words get lost somewhere on their way out.

“You’re pretty wise when you’re concussed,” Woojin murmurs, lips buried in Chan’s hair.

“Maybe I should bonk myself on the head before taking exams.”

“Okay, not _that_ wise.” Woojin sneaks a kiss on the top of Chan’s head, not that any of the other people left in the café are looking. _Chan isn’t even looking_ , Woojin notes with a smile as he watches Chan’s heavy eyelids fall shut.

Woojin reaches for the receipt, looks at it for a moment, then folds it and tucks it into his wallet carefully, keeping his shoulder steady so Chan doesn’t wake up.

 

_Present_

Woojin leans out of the way while Jeongin tips the contents of a frying pan onto a plate. “Jeongin. It’s called a stir- _fry_ , not a stir- _burn_.”

“Fuck off, Cap, you can’t do any better.”

“I’m not your captain anymore.” Woojin picks up a spoon to scrape the bits of burnt meat and bell peppers off the pan.

“Right. Weird.” Jeongin shudders. “I just can’t call _Minho_ ‘Cap,’ it doesn’t suit him.”

“And yet you voted for him.”

“It’s not like he really gave any of us a choice,” Jeongin pouts. “He’d probably beat my ass if I didn’t vote for him.”

“ _Sure_.” Woojin laughs. He leans out of the archway to the living room. “Auntie Rose! Dinner’s ready!” He whispers loudly.

His aunt comes tiptoeing down the hall, finger on her lips. “Shh, boys, you might wake the baby up.”

“Sorry.” Jeongin says, his voice at ASMR-appropriate levels.

Jeongin’s mom peers over Jeongin’s shoulder at the food. “Where’d you get the beef? I didn’t buy beef.”

Jeongin’s head is lowered in shame as he says, “It’s chicken.”

His mom’s lips tremble, like she’s using every ounce of strength in her body to stop herself from laughing. “No, I’m sure it’s delicious _chicken_ , baby- I mean, _Jeongin-oppa_.”

“I don’t think his sister will ever call him that, _it doesn’t suit him_.” Woojin scoffs, mocking Jeongin’s squeakier voice.

Jeongin glowers at him.

“He’ll grow into it, Woojinnie,” Jeongin’s mom laughs and picks up a piece of the chicken. She’s about to take a bite of it when Woojin gently lowers her chopsticks from her mouth.

“Don’t eat that, Auntie, I’m sure it causes cancer or something.” Woojin laughs at Jeongin’s deeply hurt expression. “Let’s just order some real chicken.”

 

Woojin’s just opening and closing his wallet on the ride home. He knows that’s not going to materialize the dumb receipt again - Jihyo had been right, it _was_ a stupid thing to keep around. But he can’t help it.

_Chan tossed it, didn’t he? He wouldn’t have looked at it?_ Woojin’s heart starts hammering in his chest. He must look funny, because Mr. Nakamoto’s just given him a concerned look in the rearview mirror.

“Anything wrong, Woojin?” Mr. Nakamoto asks.

“No, I was just thinking about something.”

“Okay.” Mr. Nakamoto gives him a small smile through the rearview mirror. “Don’t think _too_ hard.”

“It’s not like I can just shut my brain off when it’s convenient, Mr. Nakamoto.”

Mr. Nakamoto chuckles. “Humans are so primitive that way.”

_Mr. Nakamoto’s so weird._ Woojin goes back to frowning at his wallet, which feels much lighter without that godforsaken piece of paper.

_What does it matter if Chan looked at it before throwing it? He probably won’t remember anyway._

Woojin tries to settle into his seat. _Yeah. It’s just a piece of trash. That’s all there is to it._

_Good riddance, really._

_I shouldn’t have held onto it for so long anyway._

Woojin snaps out of whatever had been going on in his mind when he finds Mr. Lee waiting for him in the driveway, looking fidgety.

“What’s up?” Woojin frowns.

“Your father found something in the mail. It was addressed to you, but he opened it and-”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know, sorry.”

Woojin gives Mr. Lee a warm smile. “Thank you, Mr. Lee.”


	53. “I can’t hear you, I’m dead.” – Han Jisung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan leads his team back to the field, hand extended to shake those of the Bears. The announcers are still going on and on, the cameras are still rolling, and the Bears’ side of the stand is still cheering, but Chan has one concern. 
> 
> He’s going to have to hold Woojin’s hand. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Shake it, you’re going to have to shake his hand, dummy._
> 
>  
> 
> _Oh god it’s coming it’s coming._
> 
>  
> 
> Woojin’s hand is warm and a little dusty, and Chan’s well aware that he’s holding on for too long after shaking it. 
> 
> The corners of Woojin’s mouth curl upward into a grin. 
> 
> “Chan.” He says quietly, barely above a hoarse whisper. “You’re holding up the line.”

Woojin knocks on the door to his father’s study. “Father? May I come in?”

Woojin hears no reply, but he figures his father must just be surprised. They hadn’t had a real conversation in months. _For obvious reasons._

He tests the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, steps in.

The papers and folders usually arranged on his father’s desk are strewn across the floor, and the penholder and all its contents are sprinkled on top of them. His father is seated behind the desk, clutching a glass of whiskey so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Woojin’s chest seizes for a second, because he just can’t rub out the memory of those knuckles on his face, and he doubts he ever will. _But you’re safe now. Mom made sure of that._

_Not that you’d ever put what she said to the test. But he hasn’t minded you so far, so how bad can it get today?_

So he takes a breath and steps over the papers to his father’s drinks cabinet. He drops a stone from the fridge into the glass, the clink deafening against his father’s labored breathing. Woojin pours himself two fingers of whiskey and looks back. “I think one of my letters got missorted with yours.”

His father throws an envelope onto the desk. He gulps down the rest of his drink and slams the glass down next to the envelope. “Pour me another, son.”

Woojin just hums noncommittally and picks up the envelope. It’s got H------ University’s name and logo below a savage tear along the top of the envelope. Woojin takes the slightly crumpled letter out, but before he can read it, his father clears his throat.

“You didn’t tell me you were applying to another university.”

“Well,” Woojin unfolds the letter and skims through it. A smile crosses his lips. “It wasn’t entirely my idea, to be honest.”

“They’ve offered you a full scholarship. And living allowance. And a dorm.” Woojin can’t tell whether his father sounds proud or not.

“Good.” Woojin folds the letter and replaces it in the envelope. “I’ll be completely out of your hair then.”

“It’s not a Top 3 university.” Woojin’s father growls. _Of course he isn’t proud, what did you expect?_ “It’s not even in the top 10!”

Woojin just observes his father calmly and takes a sip of whisky. “Maybe not, but it’s a good school.”

Woojin’s father’s face gets very red, and he stands up and walks around the desk. Woojin’s calm exterior cracks. _Oh god. I’ve pushed it too far. I’ve really done it now._

Then his father kneels before him.

“Please,” Woojin had never heard him talk like this before. He hadn’t even thought his father was capable of _begging._ “Please consider your future. We can still talk to S------- University, that door’s not closed yet-”

“Get up, Father.” Woojin says curtly.

His father doesn’t need to be told twice. He stands and brushes the knees of his slacks off haughtily, as if he hadn’t all but groveled to a teenager just a second before. “Woojin. You know your mother and I only want the best for you.”

“No, Father,” Woojin fixes his father with a look that’s close to pity. “You just don’t want to be embarrassed.”

Woojin’s father is silent.

“You just don’t know what you’ll tell your friends. And your business partners. You don’t know how to talk about me without bragging.” Woojin takes another sip. “But you don’t have to worry about me anymore. We can be strangers after this Friday. Nothing I do will embarrass you, and nothing you do will-”

“Stop acting so smug.” His father snaps. “You won’t survive out there. You’ve been coddled all your life, you don’t know how to do anything-”

“Auntie Rose managed.” Woojin shrugs. “And she promised to help me out if I need anything.”

Woojin gets way too much satisfaction out of the color on his father’s face.

“Did you also worry like that when you kicked her out?” Woojin asks.

“Your grandfather did that, not me.”

“But you didn’t do anything to help her, did you?”

“She was grown-”

“She was _fifteen._ ”

Woojin’s father falls silent again. His first are furled, and he’s trembling with the effort of keeping his hands to his sides. Woojin decides he’ll not push the limits of his mother’s protection. It’s up to him to be the decent person between the two of them, after all.

“Sorry. I got a little carried away.” Woojin gives his father a polite little bow. Then he gulps the rest of his drink down. “Anyway, I guess this is a good time as any to let you know I’m moving out after graduation.”

“Your mother won’t allow this.”

Woojin lowers his empty glass onto his father’s desk. When he looks at his father again, this time he really pities him. He’d invested so much time, so much money, into Woojin’s future. _And there’s nothing he hates more than when his investments tank on him._

“She already has.” Woojin says, before turning to leave the study.

 

Woojin’s mother is waiting in the hallway, and the minute Woojin closes the door behind him, she leaps to action. She cups her hands around his face, inspecting him all over through her thick cat-eye reading glasses.

“Mom. _Mom_. _Please_.” Woojin groans as he gently pulls her hands away from his face.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, Mom, I’m fine.”

“Good.” His mom says, a determined frown on her face. Then she returns to her usual deer-in-the-headlights expression. “What was all that about? What did he say?”

“H------- University offered a full scholarship.” Woojin smiles at her. “With board and everything.”

“Really?” Mr. Lee’s voice echoes from down the hallway. He’s practically skipping over with glee. “Even the dorm?”

“Yeah. They have an athletes’ dorm-” Woojin’s cut off by a delighted, tropical bird screech from the head of housekeeping. Woojin’s mom gives him a pointed look, and he settles down into his usual proper self, folding his hands in front of him.

“I mean, congratulations, Woojin, sir.” Mr. Lee says in a dead, robotic voice.

“Anyway, that’s wonderful, Woojin-dear.” Woojin’s mom flings her arms around him and kisses him on the cheek.

“It’s not a Top 3 school, Mom.”

“You’re still in the same league as those Top 3 schools, right?”

Woojin nods.

“Then you can beat them and become a Top 3 school.” His mom shrugs.

Woojin bites down to stop himself from saying anything.

“Have you told Jihyo that you’re not going to S----- University, though?” His mom asks.

“No.”

“She’ll be devastated.”

 _Of course,_ Woojin thinks. _It always ends up about Jihyo with Mom, doesn’t it?_

 

_Half a year earlier_

Woojin trudges into the entrance hall to find it darkened. _So much for a champion’s welcome._ All he can think of is how badly he needs a bath. His white uniform’s hardly white anymore, and even his skin has a reddish tinge from the dirt in the stadium field.

He’s only just started up the stairs when he hears foosteps coming down. _No. I am too tired to deal with this shit right now. No. Absolutely not._

“Woojin-dear?”

Woojin stops mid-step. _She’s probably going to tell me off for getting dirt on the carpet._

“Oh, Woojin.” His mother races down the few steps between them and flings her arms around Woojin.

Woojin nearly falls all the way to the ground floor in surprise. “Mom?”

His mother, who can find microscopic specks of dirt all over their house and whines until one of the staff gets rid of it, is getting red baseball diamond dust all over her dressing gown. _Wait, she’s still in her pajamas? It’s nearly five in the afternoon._

“Mom, are you okay?”

His mom’s tucked her face into his dusty, smelly shoulder, shaking her head. _Of course she isn’t._

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Woojin tries to frown at her, but she’s planted her face in his shoulder like she has no intentions of ever removing it. “Mom, we’re going to fall down the stairs.”

“Sorry.” His mother pulls away, using the sleeve of her dressing gown to dab daintily at her face. “I- I just-”

“Congratulations on the championship, Woojin.” Mr. Lee says, suddenly coming up the stairs behind Woojin. He acknowledges Woojin’s mom with a nod. “Madam.”

“Mr. Lee, can you have the staff draw up a hot bath for-”

“I’m perfectly capable of drawing my own bath, Mom.” Woojin cuts in, frowning.

“-For _me_ ,” Woojin’s mom finishes her sentence. “And prepare some tea for me and Woojin later.”

“Mom…” Woojin starts, but when he looks at her, she looks back at him with a pleading look so desperate he just doesn’t have the heart to say anything else but, “I’ll be down to the tearoom after my bath.”

His mother smiles.

 

Woojin’s pouring a second cup of tea for his mother when she finally speaks.

“I spoke with your father.”

Woojin tries not to let his face go sour, but his self-control can only do so much.

His mother looks down at her cup. “He’s sorry for what he did.”

“He can’t say it to me directly?”

“You know your father. He doesn’t really say anything directly-”

“Mom.” Woojin says, more sternly than he’d intended. “I’m sorry, but you can’t apologize for him if he won’t do it.”

His mother just watches the steam rise off her tea for a while before saying, “I know. But _I’m_ sorry I let it happen. I’m sorry I did nothing to protect my only son.”

Woojin’s mom lies often, that bland, polite kind of lying that keeps everyone pleased, but Woojin can tell – She’s being honest with him now.

Woojin had been angry with his mother, but he’d had a lot of time to think, and he’d realized that it’s unfair to be angry with her for being powerless against his father.

“What could you have done, Mom?” Woojin takes a sip of his own tea.

His mom looks pained. “I- I don’t know, I should’ve said something at least, Woojin-dear, I’m so sorry. I was just so scared… He scared me…”

Woojin remembers Chan that Friday night, expression ice cold as he broke Woojin’s father’s nose. Woojin had just watched, because Chan was almost unrecognizable at the moment. He had never thought of Chan as capable of something like that, not even when they’d gotten into a fight all those months ago at training camp. When he hit Woojin’s father, Chan hadn’t been the Chan that Woojin loved, and Woojin had never wanted to force him into a corner like that ever again.

“I understand, Mom.”

“I’m still sorry.” His mom turns he teacup around on the saucer. “I know I’ll never make it up to you or be able to really fix this, dear, but I promise it’ll never happen again.”

Woojin sighs. “Mom, you can’t apologize _or_ make promises for Father-”

“I threatened him.” His mother beams at him, brimming with pride.

 _She’s like a kid showing her parents a scribbled crayon drawing she’d made,_ Woojin thinks. “Threatened him _how_?”

“I told him – you’ll never believe this, Woojin-dear,” His mom jumps up in her seat, sitting straighter. “I told him I’d file for a divorce if he _ever_ laid a hand on my baby again.”

Woojin feels skeptical, but he doesn’t want to burst her bubble. “Mom-”

“He’s afraid, Woojin. I’ve never seen him that scared.” His mom gives him a determined look. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

 _Just because you threatened divorce?_ Woojin sighs from deep in his lungs. _There’s no way a man like that would actually be_ afraid _of something like that. Surely both of you signed a harsh prenup before I was even an idea._

Woojin studies his mother’s bravest expression. _Then again, I can always hope, right? That my father might actually be afraid of losing my mom? He’s got to be human somehow, everyone is._

“W- What about…” His mom’s expression changes, her cheeks warming to a soft pink color. “Your… er…”

Woojin knows her well enough to just say something to put her out of her misery, because she won’t dare finish that question out loud. “Chan and I are over. I’m not going to see him anymore.”

His mom gasps. “Oh, Woojin-dear, _why_?”

Woojin frowns at her. _I don’t even know where to start._

“You’re not… shocked that I was… _with_ a _guy_?” Woojin asks, finding himself dragging the words out one by one, by their collars.

“Oh, that?” His mom shakes her head violently, a few strands threatening to come loose from her bun. “I have a lot of gay friends, Woojin-dear, _I don’t care_. They design the best clothes. They’re the best dancers. They’re the funniest to talk to. I have nothing against them.”

Woojin resists every urge to slap his palm to his face. “Mom…”

“I just don’t know why you had to keep it a secret from _me_.”

“You would’ve told Father.” Woojin ignores her hurt look. “Or, at least, Father would’ve wrung it out of you. And you saw how _he_ took it.”

His mom lowers her head.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Chan and I aren’t going to see each other again.” Woojin says firmly, like he’s trying very hard to convince them both. “There’s no more problem.”

“So,” His mom’s brow is furrowed as she sips her tea. “You and Jihyo-dear? It wasn’t real?”

Woojin sighs.

“She really likes you a lot, you know.” Woojin’s mom continues. “She likes you so much-”

“And I like her too. Just not… the way I liked Chan.”

His mom nods sadly. She’d never really cared about the baseball – She was only concerned with two things: Woojin’s grades and his relationship with Jihyo.

“Is he good to you?” Woojin’s mom asks quietly.

“He was.” Woojin’s chest aches saying that. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, Mom.”

Woojin’s mom nods slowly. “I’m sorry about that. About everything.”

“It’s not your fault.” Woojin says, and he feels like he can finally believe it, that he’s not just saying it to keep his mom from crying. “You’re not the one who made a mess of everything.”

 

_Present_

Chan’s started running every morning.

He’s been running a lot because of baseball, but running just for running’s sake had always seemed kind of pointless to him. _It only makes sense when there are bases you’re running_ to, had been his reasoning. But his Math teacher had suggested it a few weeks back, and unlike all the other advice he’d gotten about Math, this was something he could definitely do.

“Mom, I’m just going for a run in the park near school,” Chan says, filling his water bottle while the rest of his family are eating breakfast. It’s a Tuesday morning, and for most students, the summer break’s just started.

“Aren’t you going to have breakfast first?” Chan’s mom asks, frowning at the way his t-shirt hangs from his shoulders.

“No thanks, Mama, I might throw up,” Chan laughs, and his younger siblings snicker in solidarity.

 

Chan doesn’t need to pull his earbuds out to hear the voices whispering loudly behind him. He recognizes them, of course, and they’re not going a good job of keeping him out of the conversation, but he pretends not to hear and keeps running. He slows his pace down a little to let them catch up, though, because he can hear them starting to huff for breath while arguing who should talk to Chan first.

“Hey – oh god my lungs – Cap!” Jisung leaps forward to catch up to Chan. “Cap! What a – jesus christ my _lungs_ – coincidence!”

“Hi Jisung,” Chan smiles, slowing his pace down further. “and Changbin.”

Changbin finally comes up on Chan’s other side, his face getting pretty red. “Hi.”

“So, Cap, we were thinking – dear fucking god I can’t _breathe_ ,” Jisung gasps out.

Chan jogs to a stop. “Jisung?”

Jisung’s a meter back, sitting on the paved park path. He flops onto his back, panting and gasping like a fish freshly plucked from the water.

“Hey, Jisung, you good?” Chan asks, squatting down next to him.

Jisung’s eyes flutter shut. “I think I’m dying.”

Changbin’s bent over, panting, but he still manages to roll his eyes at Jisung. “I told you we didn’t have to – _huff_ – run after him.”

Jisung’s laying perfectly still, his face pale in the early morning sun. “Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

“Fucking-” Changbin takes a deep breath as he straightens himself out. “Cap.”

Chan smiles at him. “You’re the Cap now, Changbin.”

“I know, but let’s just let that happen organically, screw it,” Changbin runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Jisung wanted to ask you something.”

Jisung sits up, looking affronted. “Are you really going to throw me under the bus like that when I’m dead?”

“Fuck’s sake Jisung, just _ask_ him.” Changbin grumbles.

“Fine.” Jisung hops up onto his feet, arms outstretched for balance. Then he puts on a greasy smile and slings an arm over Chan’s shoulders. “So, Cap…how have you been?”

Changbin groans loudly, looking up at the greyish sky for help.

“Good, I guess…?” Chan says. _Didn’t we just see each other last week?_

“How’s uh, school?” Jisung’s smile is getting strained.

“It just ended…?” Chan frowns at him.

“Good, good. Mine too. What a _coincidence_!”

“We go to the same school, Jisung.” Chan says slowly.

“Jisung, for the love of god,” Changbin groans. He fixes Chan with a weirdly serious expression. “We just wanted to invite you to the… Senior Send-off we’re planning for, uh, basically you and Jaehyun.”

Chan tries to keep his smile on. “Oh, okay.”

“It’s uh, this Friday night. We’re meeting up around 6.” Changbin continues, but he’s started to frown. Chan hopes he doesn’t look sad, he doesn’t want to look sad, he doesn’t want Changbin or Jisung or anyone else to worry about him.

“At my aunt’s café.” Jisung adds.

“Okay.”

“So,” Changbin’s stuffed his hands into his shorts pockets. “Uh, just let us know if you can make it.”

“I can.” Chan nods.

“Cool.” Changbin turns to go, then turns back and makes a face at Jisung like, _Come on you fool_ , then grimaces at Chan, then turns to go again, swiveling around like a confused electric fan.

“See you on Friday, Cap. Unless we _randomly_ run into each other again. Like today,” Jisung salutes him, earning an embarrassed jab from Changbin.

“Sure. See ya,” Chan waves at them.

When they’re far enough that they can’t see him anymore, Chan sinks into the nearest bench and sighs. _Why didn’t I just tell them? They’re my friends, aren’t they? And they’re not going to judge me or anything like that. And I’m not ashamed of myself, this is just a thing that happens. To some people. Like me._

Chan sinks in the seat and looks up. A group of birds – _god alone knows what they’re called –_ flies overhead in a V formation. There’s one bird that’s flying a little way behind them, like a period floating after the V. He can’t really see if it’s even the same kind of bird.

Chan comes home to find a plastic food cover tent on the table. He lifts it and chuckes at the heaping mound of fried rice, topped with three runny eggs.

“That’s for you.”

Chan jumps, dropping his water bottle on the kitchen floor. “Jeez, Miya, make _some_ noise when you walk, you’re going to give people heart attacks.”

Miya shrugs and pulls a banana from the bunch in the fruit basket. “It’s your fault you can’t hear me.”

“ _Unnie_!” Chae hisses, trailing behind her, as usual.

“What?” Miya hisses back at her, taking a bite from her banana. “Mama said these were free-for-all-”

“No!” Chae looks warily in Chan’s direction, so Chan pretends to busy himself looking for a spoon to eat his breakfast with. When she feels like the coast is clear, she whispers, “Mama said to be nice to _him_.”

Chan lifts his eyebrows but says nothing as he shuffles aimlessly through the cutlery drawer.

“I _know_ , but that doesn’t mean I have to be a _saint_ ,” Miya whispers back.

“Be nice to him!” Chae whispers urgently.

Chan picks up a spoon and goes back to the table, trying not to smile when Chae darts off down the hallway when she sees him. He sits down and starts mixing the eggs into the rice. “Miya.”

“Uh-huh?” Miya grunts, but she’s looking very concerned for Chan.

“What did Mama tell you?”

Miya’s fist clenches. “That the bananas are going to be overripe soon so we should finish them-”

“Miya.” Chan doesn’t like bringing out his older brother voice, but he needs it sometimes. _Especially with Miya these days._

Miya takes another bite of her banana, chewing slowly before she finally decides to say something. “Mama told us all to be nice to you.”

“Why?”

“You tell me.” Miya shrugs. “She didn’t say.”

“That’s fair.”

Miya frowns. “Why?”

“I should be the one to tell you.”

“Tell us what?” Miya takes a step closer to Chan, frowning harder. “What happened? Did you get into a fight again-”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Chan keeps mixing his rice until the eggs are indistinguishable from the rice. _Should I tell her? I should, shouldn’t I? She has the right to know. And she’s probably the only one who’ll actually understand…_

“I’m not graduating this year.”

Chan’s still looking down at his bowl, just stabbing the rice with the spoon at this point. He hears nothing but the muddy noise of his spoon mashing his breakfast to an unappetizing, yellow mess.

He looks up. “Miya.”

Miya shakes her head, gulping loudly. Her small face and eyes quickly get red.

“Miya, I’m sorry,”

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault, right?” Miya shakes her head harder. “And it’s not like you d- did something wrong-”

“Then why are you crying?” Chan asks, his own eyes starting to sting.

“B- Because!” Miya stomps her foot. “It’s not right! This shouldn’t happen! You worked so hard! Things should turn out all right in the end!”

“Hey, Miya,” Chan drops his spoon, getting up to put his arms around his sister. “It’s not the end. Things will be all right. Eventually.”

Miya sniffles right into Chan’s sweaty shirt, still shaking her head. She stomps her foot again. “This shouldn’t be happening!”

Their mom’s slippers slap down the hallway. “Miya, what did I tell you about stomping? The neighbors downstairs can- Miya? What’s wrong?”

Miya wipes her face on Chan’s shirt before turning to their mom. “Why didn’t you and Dad do _anything_!”

“Miya.” Chan says sternly. “Don’t talk to Mama that way.”

“They should’ve done something!” Miya shouts back. “They should have talked to the school! Or they shouldn’t have let you work! Or-”

“Miya, that’s enough.” Chan says. He hears his mother’s choppy, hiccup breaths, and doesn’t dare look her way. “Mama and Dad did their best. I did my best. We all did our best. Sometimes that’s not enough, and it’s not anyone’s fault.”

“It shouldn’t be like that!”

“That’s just how things are sometimes,” Chan embraces his sister tighter.

“Chan,” Chan feels his mother’s hand on his back, and he can hardly keep himself from breaking down. “I’m sorry. We’ve put off talking about this for too long.”

 

Chan steps out from his shower, still toweling his hair, to find entire family sitting in the living room. It’s almost like they’re watching TV, but the TV set is unplugged (because of something Chan’s mom had read online about plugged appliances bloating your electricity bill).

“Dad?” Chan frowns. His dad should still be at work, but there he is in his bamboo armchair, sitting ramrod straight with his hands on his knees like he’s meeting the president or something.

“He took a half day.” Chan’s mom explains, and Chan’s dad just nods slowly.

Chan hangs his towel on a rack with some drying clothes. He turns back to find his family staring at him as if he were the TV. “Uh… Does _everyone_ really need to be here?”

“Yes.” Miya says for herself and the other three kids squeezes into the couch next to their mom.

“Yes, they do.” Their mom agrees. “This is going to be a whole family decision.”

“But I’m the only one who-”

“Sit down, Chan.” Chan’s mom says.

“Ok.” Chan perches awkwardly on the armrest of the sofa. “So… what are we going to talk about?”

“We spoke with the vice principal.” Chan’s dad says. “She’s giving you several options.”

“The brochures are in my bag, but they all have websites, so you can look at those.” Chan’s mom says.

“Wait,” Chan frowns. “What?”

“The other schools.” Chan’s dad says. “The vice principal said they’re more than willing to help make your transfer as easy as-”

“ _Transfer_?”

“To another high school.” Chan’s dad looks utterly frustrated that Chan’s not following him.

Chan looks at his mom. “Who said I was transferring to another school?”

Chan’s mom blinks at him. “You mean you want to _stay_ in W------ High?”

“Well, yeah, I didn’t get kicked out.” Chan starts to doubt himself. “Right?”

“No, you didn’t get kicked out.” His dad shakes his head.

“But if you stay,” Chan’s mom starts gently, but her voice is starting to shake. “You’ll be classmates with your juniors now. They’ll all know. D- Do you- I mean, are you okay with that?”

Chan chews on the inside of his cheek. He’d thought about that, of course. He’d be in Changbin’s year. And if he joins the team again, he’d be in Changbin’s _way_. He could never do that to Changbin, but at the same time…

“I think you should transfer.” Chan’s dad says. “Just pick the best one of the schools the vice principal suggested. They all seem like good schools, and they’re also nearby.”

“It’s only for a year, anyway.” Chan’s mom offers.

 _That’s considering I pass senior year at_ that _school,_ Chan thinks bitterly.

_No, Chan, don’t think like that. People are trying to help you. Even Vice Principal Bae’s trying to help you. You have to help yourself._

Chan clears his throat. “I don’t want to- I mean, I can’t leave the team and play for another-”

“No, you won’t be playing any baseball in your new school.” Chan’s dad says.

“Honey.” Chan’s mom warns him.

“He has to focus on his studies!” Chan’s dad blurts out, before catching a sharp look from his wife. He sinks back into his seat. “Besides, if he starts out at a new school, he’ll be training pool all over again.”

Chan had thought about that, too. _Would I survive a year without baseball? Well, if I’m in the training pool, I’ll still be playing… And I came from a team that placed second in the championships, they might bump me up to the actual team anyway…_

“I play for the Weevils or I don’t play at all.” Chan finds himself saying.

“Then you don’t play at all.” Chan’s dad claps his hands. “Done!”

“Honey.” Chan’s mom snaps at him. She reaches out and puts a hand on Chan’s knee. “Chan, I know baseball is important to you, but you have to admit, it takes up a lot of your time and tires you out a lot-”

“So does working at the shop.” Miya cuts in.

“Miya.” Chan warns her.

“We won’t let you work at the shop anymore, either.” Chan’s mom says quickly. “No more part-time job, no more extracurriculars-”

“Just studying?” Chan sighs.

Chan’s mom gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Chan, but it’s only for a year.”

“I know.” Chan nods. He doesn’t want to drag this out further, because the solution is ridiculously simple, and it’s the one Vice Principal Bae had given his parents and the one they’re practically begging him to do, but nothing’s ever simple in his mind. “Mama, Dad, can I have a few days to think about this?”

Chan’s dad opens his mouth to protest, probably, but Chan’s mom speaks up first. “Of course, Chan.”

“Thank you.”

 

Chan decides to go for a walk after dinner. His parents are apprehensive to let him out of the house at first, but he promises them he’ll text updates and photos.

Chan buys himself an ice cream at the nearest convenience store and starts walking throught the darkened streets. There’s a part of the city a few blocks away that climbs up the side of a mountain, and there’s this nice lookout point along the main road that overlooks the city.

_“Sounds like a tourist spot.” Woojin had said when Chan had described it to him one night at the library. They’d been sitting somewhere in the periodical section, listening to music with Chan’s earphones split between them._

_“We should go sometime.” Chan had insisted._

_“And what would we do there?”_

_“I don’t know, look for our houses?” Chan had laughed. “I always do that when I’m up there.”_

_“So you know exactly where your house is by now.” Woojin had said._

_“Yeah. There’s a night market a few streets down so I look for that then count two streets…” Chan had drawn out a map in the air. “And_ bam _my house is there! Every time!”_

 _“Yeah, I don’t think it would_ go _anywhere.” Woojin had laughed. “So what’s the point of this whole… exercise?”_

_“Kim Woooojiiiin,” Chan had groaned, flopping over dramatically into Woojin’s lap. “There’s no point. Not everything has a point. It’s just fun.”_

_“I was kidding,” Woojin had flicked Chan gently on the cheek. He’d picked up the earbud that had fallen out of Chan’s ear and placed it back so gently that Chan hadn’t noticed until he heard the music again._

_Chan had smiled up at Woojin’s chin, wriggling to make himself himself comfortable in Woojin’s lap. “We should go.”_

_“Why, are your parents looking for you already?”_

_“No, I meant we should go to the lookout.”_

_Woojin had grinned then. “Right now? Don’t you think Mr. Nakamoto’s had enough?”_

_“Yeah, poor guy.” Chan had chuckled. “No, we should go together. Just us. So we can spend as long as we want without anyone waiting for us.”_

_“And what’ll we do there?”_

_“Look out?” Chan had made a face. “I don’t know, what else are you supposed to do at lookout points?”_

_“How would_ I _know? I don’t go to those kinds of places.” Woojin had flicked Chan on the cheek again._

_“Oh, we definitely need to go. Now.”_

_“You serious?”_

_“Not really.”_

Chan leans on the rail, looking out at the city lights. _I should’ve brought him here back then._

Chan takes a deep breath. The air is warm and muggy, and the smoke seems to be hanging around more than usual. In short, he ends up coughing over the railing. _Stupid pollution._

When he manages to start breathing properly again, he leans on the railing and looks out at the city. What he hadn’t told Woojin is that he likes to look at places and imagine what the people inside them are doing. _Because that’s creepy. I didn’t want him to think I was creepy._

Chan squints at the night market near his house. _Someone out there’s just gotten out of work and they’re going for a quick snack. Or dinner. Oh, I hope not._

He looks at a cluster of low, pastel-colored buildings that all look yellowish in the streetlights. _Someone out there must still be watching TV because they can’t sleep._

He looks at the darkened outline of W----- High. _The school ghosts are probably having a party,_ he thinks with a grin.

He finds the light from Jisung’s aunt’s café. _Jisung’s probably upstairs shouting at his teammates in some game._

He finds the squat, slightly peeling apartment building where Hyunjin lives. There’s a light still on in only one of the windows. _That’s probably Hyunjin reading a book, and his brother’s probably…_ Chan realizes he doesn’t have the faintest idea what Hyunjin’s brother is interested in. _Maybe he’s reading a book, too._

He looks out further, at a sleek set of buildings in the business district. _Felix is probably playing a game, too. Maybe Jisung’s shouting at him._

Chan looks at the sparsely scattered buildings further to the North. _Maybe Changbin’s working out. He’d mentioned that he likes to work out at night to help him sleep._

Then his eyes follow the winding streets, further and further from the city as it climbs up a low hill. Here the houses are few and far between, but as big as Chan’s entire apartment block.

 _Somewhere, out there, Woojin’s probably lying in bed, listening to music_. He probably pretends to listen to some classic rock for a few minutes, before going back to the original cast recordings of Broadway musicals saved on his phone. The ones he’s never told anyone about, except Chan.

 _Does he think about me?_ Chan wonders, drumming his fingers on the railing’s bumpy metal, to the rhythm of some song from a musical Woojin had let him listen to. Chan doesn’t remember the name, but if you gave him a drum kit, he could probably work it out from memory.

 _I think about him pretty often, don’t I?_ Chan laughs at himself, and there’s no one around to judge him. He feels like there’s an empty space around him, like if someone else were looking at him up there on that lookout point, they’d see a dashed outline of a person who ought to be there, but isn’t. _No, stop thinking that way._

_The fact that it’s over doesn’t take away from the fact that he was there when he was, and he made everything seem better._

_Besides, at least there was a definite end between us, which is much more than a lot of other people get._

_Half a year ago, after the championship game_

Chan leads his team back to the field, hand extended to shake those of the Bears. The announcers are still going on and on, the cameras are still rolling, and the Bears’ side of the stand is still cheering, but Chan has one concern.

He’s going to have to hold Woojin’s hand.

 _Shake it, you’re going to have to_ shake _his hand, dummy._

_Oh god it’s coming it’s coming._

Woojin’s hand is warm and a little dusty, and Chan’s well aware that he’s holding on for too long after shaking it.

The corners of Woojin’s mouth curl upward into a grin.

“Chan.” He says quietly, barely above a hoarse whisper. “You’re holding up the line.”

“Yeah. Whoops. My bad, sorry.” Chan lets go and shakes the next person’s hand and the next, rushing through the rest of the Bears as quickly as he can so he can proceed to dig a hole in the diamond and bury himself.

Chan lags behind his teammates after that, because he’s not ready to deal with their waggling eyebrows and Knowing Looks as they file into the locker room. Just as he’s about to enter the locker room, someone catches him by the jersey from behind, pulling him around a corner.

“Hey. Sorry.” Woojin lets go of Chan’s shirt and smooths it out. Chan’s entire mind blanks, focusing only on the very, very light touch of Woojin’s fingers. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Chan looks around. The hallway’s empty, but with the Weevils’ and Bears’ locker rooms on either end of it, someone’s bound to run into them eventually.

Woojin, being Woojin, had thought of that already. “Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've neglected to mention this for god knows how many chapters, but if you have a PRESSING question or wanna help me procrastinate, i'm on twitter [@halp_rice](https://twitter.com/halp_rice) where i constantly overshare...


	54. It’s Like Math

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Beef.” Chan says.
> 
> “Beef!” The other boys agree. “BEEF!”
> 
> “Well, yeah, I figured as much.” Coach Park says. “I already reserved some tables at my favorite barbecue place.”
> 
> They all start scrambling to shove everything into their bags and make for the door. “BEEF!”
> 
> “ONE! TWO! _THREE!_ ” Jisung shouts. 
> 
> “SHAWTY GOT THEM APPLE-BOTTOM _BEEF!_ ” Changbin starts on cue.
> 
> “ _BEEF!_ ” Felix screams in echo.
> 
> “BEEF WITH THE FUR!” Chan shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.
> 
> “NASTY!”

_Still a few months ago, after the championship game_

Chan was raised to be polite, kind, and to always think the best of others. Still, the brain currently bouncing around in his skull is a teenage one, so you can imagine what sort of _conclusions_ it was getting to when Chan found himself locked in a storage room, alone with Woojin.

And this wasn’t just any Woojin – it was grinning, confident Woojin, who’d just dragged Chan’s team through the dirt to win his team a sixth straight championship title. Woojin, who’d calmly turned down about two dozen reporters’ requests for interviews, just to corner Chan in a darkened storage room.

Chan feels like he’s about to pass out just _waiting_ for Woojin to say something.

“I just got my phone back today, so I saw all your messages and missed calls, and we didn’t have enough time to really talk awhile ago,” Woojin says finally. “So I think I owe you an explanation.”

_Weird place to start,_ Chan thinks. “Okay.”

“My dad had me locked in my room since Friday. He took my phone and my laptop away-”

“Holy shit,” Chan steps closer, frowning as he reaches up to touch Woojin’s face. “Do you need-”

“No, don’t- I mean, no thanks.” Woojin brushes Chan’s hands away. “Can I finish?”

“Yes.” Chan steps back. “Sorry.”

“Thanks.” Woojin’s tone is dry. Chan’s confused, desperately waiting for him to say something else, but Woojin’s just looking at him.

“…Woojin?”

“Yeah, sorry, I thought about what I’d say on the car ride here, but I just…” Woojin shakes his head. “I forgot everything.”

“It’s okay.” Chans fingers twitch at his sides. He really wants to hold Woojin right now. It’s the only thing in his head: _I want to hold Woojin. I just want to-_

Woojin’s the one who reaches out and cups Chan’s chin in one hand. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Chan leans forward. “Me neither.”

“And I was thinking about us, and the goddamn library, and the stupid shit we did in there.”

Chan’s face warms up. He croaks out, “And?”

“And I was thinking about – Well, everything. I had a lot of time to think.” Woojin almost smiles as he lets go of Chan’s face. “Not like there was much else for me to do the past week.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Chan runs his fingers over the margins of Woojin’s face. Woojin doesn’t stop him this time. _His cheeks are so sunken,_ Chan frowns, letting his hand rest on the side of Woojin’s face.

“I’m not. Well, not completely.” Woojin leans into Chan’s hand. “I’m glad I got the time to think, because it made me realize that I’ve been selfish up till now.”

“Selfish how?” Chan says, his brow furrowing deeper.

“I’m a mess, Chan- And don’t even try to correct me, you know it’s true. My life is a mess, and I need to fix it.”

Chan runs his thumb over Woojin’s sunken cheek. “Trust me, Woojin, if we’re talking about who’s a _mess_ -”

“I’ve been using you as a band-aid to cover up all my problems.” Woojin says. “Which is bad enough in and of itself, but it’s also put you in harm’s way.”

“But _you’re_ the one who your dad was hurting. I’m not the one who- Woojin, _no_.” Chan’s heart drops when Woojin jerks Chan’s hands away. “You weren’t using me.” Chan insists. “You care about me.”

The silence in the room is making Chan panic. _You love me, don’t you? You said it, didn’t you? You meant it, didn’t you?_ Chan’s watching Woojin intently, trying to read whatever it is he might be thinking, but he can’t, and he’s starting to think that maybe he never could.

“I think we should stop this.” Woojin says. “I can’t let you get hurt again because of me.”

“You… make me very happy,” Chan says. It’s a stupidly simple sentence, because his mind can’t come up with any better way to put things. “So it’s all worth it.”

Woojin shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“So what do you want?” Chan asks. “You want us to go back to being just friends?”

“We were never just friends.” Woojin says tensely.

Chan’s pretty sure he’s frowning so hard it’s going to become permanently etched onto his face. He doesn’t understand, but he’s trying to understand, and literally _all_ he wants right now is to understand _._

_It’s like Math._

“So what do you want us to do? Do you really think we can just avoid each other after this? Do you think we can act like we don’t know each other?” Chan asks. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, but he’s beyond feeling ashamed. “After _everything_?”

“I don’t know.” Woojin blinks. His eyes aren’t even getting red. “But I don’t think there’s a better way to-”

“You know nothing you’ve ever done to me has _ever_ hurt me until right now?”

Woojin closes his mouth, pulling his lips into a straight line.

Chan pulls up his collar to wipe his eyes. “And you’re not even going to apologize?”

“Sorry.” Woojin says, but it’s a cold, dry apology, the kind you give at a press conference and not to the person who’s poured their entire heart out for you.

“Woojin,” Chan says, blinking away some more tears that just keep coming. “If you’re just pretending not to care, please say so now, because I promise it’ll hurt me less than this… Please just tell me.”

Chan rubs his eyes dry on his collar again. It takes a long time for him to get his breathing steadier again and his eyes dry enough to see, but when he looks up, he finds Woojin just looking down at him with a blank expression. He knows that Woojin has a ridiculous amount of self-control – _I mean, he managed to go out there and_ smile _through a game when he’d just been imprisoned in his own house for a week_ – but the fact that he can just watch Chan cry his eyes out without so much as a frown is messing with Chan’s head.

“I’m sorry for making this kind of decision for the both of us,” Woojin’s voice is still calm, and composed, like he’s reading out something mundane like an address or a phone number. “But we just can’t be like this right now. You _have_ to see that too.”

“Then we can just take a break and wait-”

“I don’t want anyone waiting on me, and I doubt you want that, either.” Woojin says, cutting him off.

“I don’t know what I want!” Chan sits down on the dusty poured concrete floor, hugging his knees. “You’re _so_ \- I don’t know anymore! Why are you doing this to me!”

Woojin squats next to him. “I’m sorry, Chan. I guess I just don’t know how to be good to you.”

Chan glares up at him. “Don’t tell me I deserve better than you.”

“Seems like you know it already.” Woojin says. He pulls his phone out to check the time. “We should probably get back to our teams before they start looking for us.”

_There he goes again, trying to sweep me under a rug._ Chan frowns, ignoring Woojin’s offer to help him to his feet. “You’ve always been embarrassed of me, haven’t you?”

The look Woojin gives him is icy. “That’s not it, Chan.”

“You never want anyone to know that you’re with me. Not even your _friends_. What else am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t want us to end this with a fight, Chan.”

“You don’t want a fight?” Chan finds himself squaring up to Woojin, glaring him right in the eyes. “Then you shouldn’t have-”

Woojin kisses Chan, just for a split second, on the lips.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” Woojin says, while Chan’s too stunned to do anything. His face is still blank, even when he’d just kissed Chan after everything he’d said, and Chan has no idea what to think anymore. “You’re not someone to be embarrassed of. And I know I’m bad at expressing it, but I’m really grateful for the time we spent together, even if it had to end like this.”

Chan feels like he’d been punched in the face. Rather, he’d have preferred it if Woojin had just punched him in the face.

“Me too.”

Woojin unlocks the door and steps out without giving Chan another glance.

 

Chan walks into the Weevils’ assigned locker room. Luckily, the boys all seem to be crowded near the back, so no one sees him come in the anteroom. He stops by a full-length mirror and almost laughs at himself.

_Holy shit am I_ ugly _right now._

Chan takes a deep breath and dries his face on the collar of his shirt, then combs through his hair with his fingers, trying to make himself look a little less like something that gets dumped.

Coach Park’s voice carries over the lockers. “Woojin’s a better player than your entire team, granted, but their they’re screwed without him.”

The first image in Chan’s mind is of Woojin just watching, looking a little bored while Chan sobs his eyes out. Chan wonders if he’ll ever think of Woojin in a positive light ever again.

 “He’s gonna be gone next year.” Changbin says, sounding as relieved as Chan feels about that, but for very different reasons. “We can get them next year.”

“That’s the spirit, Changbin.” Coach Park says as Chan starts making his way into the locker room. “Anyway, let’s go out and have lunch. What do you guys want?”

Chan leans on the doorway, clearing his throat.

“Beef.” He says.

“Beef!” The other boys agree. “BEEF!”

“Well, yeah, I figured as much.” Coach Park says. “I already reserved some tables at my favorite barbecue place.”

They all start scrambling to shove everything into their bags and make for the door. “BEEF!”

“ONE! TWO! _THREE_!” Jisung shouts.

“SHAWTY GOT THEM APPLE-BOTTOM _BEEF_!” Changbin starts on cue.

“ _BEEF_!” Felix screams in echo.

“BEEF WITH THE FUR!” Chan shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.

“NASTY!”

They laugh so hard that they cry, sitting and lying on the floor clutching their sides. Chan laughs along with them, feeling more tears roll out the sides of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Chan din’t deserve tis u asshol” – My little sister & beloved beta
> 
> 🅱lease don't hate me guys I promise this fic is going somewhere


	55. MY ИAME IƧ HYUИJIИ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinyoung perks up like a meerkat. “Is that the doorbell?” 
> 
> Hyunjin licks the last of the frosting off this cupcake. “Yeah.”
> 
> “So why are you not answering it?”
> 
> “It’s late.” Hyunjin shrugs. “It’s most probably a serial killer.”
> 
> Jinyoung groans and walks over to the door, peeking in the peephole. Hyunjin watches his brother stop, frown, and check the peephole again.
> 
> “Sheewiaw kiwwo?” Hyunjin asks with a mouthful of cupcake. He swallows. “Or ghost?”
> 
> “Weirder than that.” Jinyoung frowns as he starts unlocking the door. 
> 
> “Hi.” Chan says.

_Present_

Hyunjin feels beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead, but he keeps going, frowning down at the paper in front of him, which now reads:  

_MY ИAME IƧ HYUИJIИ_

His door swings open. “I have cup- What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

Hyunjin makes a face at his brother. _What does it look like?_ “I’m learning to write with my left hand.”

“Why-” Jinyoung stops himself and just shakes his head. “I guess there are worse ways to spend your summer. Anyway, there are cupcakes on the counter.”

Hyunjin puts his crayon down and flexes his left hand, which is starting to get sore. _I deserve a break._

He perches on one o the barstools at the counter while his brother fumbles with the sticker holding the box of cupcakes closed.

“How was your date?” Hyunjin asks.

“It wasn’t a date,” Jinyoung grunts as he tears the sticker off. “Ms. Bae and I had dinner.”

Hyunjin reaches for one as soon as Jinyoung lifts the lid. “Are you two dating?”

“What about _‘It wasn’t a date’_ did you not understand?” Jinyoung knocks lightly on Hyunjin’s head. “You can’t be on summer mode _already_.”

“You can have dinner with people you’re dating.” Hyunjin says, licking all the icing off.

“That’s called a date.”

Hyunjin puts the bare cupcake down on the counter. “So you’re not dating?”

Jinyoung crosses his arms. “First of all, no, I am _not_ dating your vice principal so don’t expect any special treatment or anything, and second of all, you had _better_ eat that disgusting thing.”

“This?” Hyunjin raises the de-iced cupcake. It has a light sheen of Hyunjin’s spit over the top of the cake.

“Jesus.” Jinyoung shakes his head as he walks away.

“I was gonna eat it, hyung!” Hyunjin shouts after him. He stuffs the entire thing into his mouth and starts chewing. “SHEE?”

“Disgusting.” Jinyoung’s voice carries from his room.

Hyunjin’s about to tease his brother some more when the doorbell rings. Hyunjin looks up at the wall clock. It’s nearly midnight… _Definitely a serial killer,_ Hyunjin concludes, helping himself to a second cupcake.

His brother comes out of his room, hair pulled back with a headband and face still dripping wet. “Is that the doorbell?”

Hyunjin licks the last of the frosting off this cupcake. “Yeah.”

“So why are you not answering it?”

“It’s late.” Hyunjin shrugs. “It’s most probably a serial killer.”

Jinyoung groans and walks over to the door, peeking in the peephole. Hyunjin watches his brother stop, frown, and check the peephole again.

“Sheewiaw kiwwo?” Hyunjin asks with a mouthful of cupcake. He swallows. “Or ghost?”

“Weirder than that.” Jinyoung frowns as he starts unlocking the door.

“Hi.” Chan says. He hadn’t thought this through enough, but at least he doesn’t seem to have woken up the Park brothers.

“Come in?” Jinyoung steps aside to let Chan in, but even then he doesn’t seem sure.

“Thanks.” Chan brushes his shoes off on the welcome mat then lines them up neatly next to the shelf.

“Cupcake?” Hyunjin offers.

“Oh, no thanks, I’m fine.” Chan says, turning to find Jinyoung looking at him suspiciously. “What?”

“Why are you saying no to food? Are you sick?” Jinyoung narrows his eyes some more. “Heartbroken?”

Chan frowns at him, then he bursts out laughing. “You’re _good_.”

“No, you’re just easy to read.” Hyunjin says, licking the icing off a cupcake.

Chan would’ve come up with a comeback if he hadn’t gotten _mesmerized_ by the very, very unsettling sight of someone licking a cupcake completely bare.

“Please don’t mind him, the hospital he was born in didn’t accept returns.” Jinyoung says, leading Chan by the shoulders to the living room. “I assume there’s a problem, and right now I’m too tired to not be blunt about it, so just tell me what happened as if we did all the small talk shit already.”

The couch squeaks like den of rats under Chan.

“The secondhand furniture store didn’t accept returns, either.” Hyunjin snickers.

“Shut up and eat your food.” Jinyoung snaps at him. He flicks Chan on the arm. “Go. Start talking. Can’t guarantee I won’t fall asleep, though. I’m so tired I could literally pass out right now.”

Chan frowns. “What did you do?”

“I had dinner.” Jinyoung says.

“Sure, ‘ _dinner’_.” Hyunjin repeats with air quotes.

“Why did I give you sugar?” Jinyoung frowns at his brother.

“Because you love me!” Hyunjin says, pulling two finger hearts out of the cupcake box.

Chan laughs, then sobers his expression up when Jinyoung gives him a sharp look.

“So, what happened, Chan?”

Chan sighs and leans back, the couch whining loudly under him. He looks warily in Hyunjin’s direction. _I mean, I_ was _planning to tell him and the other guys sometime soon, but…_

“Hyunjin won’t tell anyone.” Jinyoung says, as if reading his mind.

“Swear it on hyung’s life.” Hyunjin crosses his heart.

Chan smiles, but he sinks further into the couch. “Thanks. But don’t worry, I’m going to tell the others soon, too, anyway.”

Jinyoung and Hyunjin exchange worried looks.

Chan doesn’t draw it out any longer. “I’m not graduating this year.”

Hyunjin stumbles off his seat. “What?”

“Hyunjin.” Jinyoung gives him a sharp look before turning back to Chan, brow furrowed. “What happened?”

“I failed a couple of subjects.” Chan says quietly. He feels less ashamed than he’d expected he would be saying it.

“That’s it?”

“I failed _five_ subjects.” Chan corrects himself. He looks up to find the Park brothers watching him carefully. “It’s not- I mean, who am I kidding? It’s a big deal.”

Hyunjin perches onto Jinyoung’s armrest, nudging his brother as he mumbles something to him.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Jinyoung asks Chan.

“I don’t know. I have to repeat senior year again…” Chan runs a hand through his hair. “Vice Principal Bae and my parents said I should transfer out.”

“What? _Why_?” Hyunjin asks despite himself.

Jinyoung elbows him. “He’d be classmates with Changbin and the others. It’d be awkward.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Hyunjin seems to fold up in embarrassment.

“I don’t actually mind that.” Chan admits. “Why does everyone think that would be a problem?”

“Because-” Jinyoung starts, before breaking into a bittersweet smile. “I guess _you_ wouldn’t mind it. That’s very much like you.”

Hyunjin’s hugging his knees, balancing himself on Jinyoung’s armrest. “Please don’t leave, Cap.” He says in a small voice.

Chan feels like he’s being ripped in two. “That’s just the thing, Hyunjin, I’m not your captain anymore. Changbin is, and if I’m still there…”

“He would step down.” Jinyoung says. “Or he wouldn’t, but no one would listen to him.”

Hyunjin frowns. “I would.”

Chan gives him a small smile. Hyunjin’s much sweeter than most people give him credit for.

“Okay, this is going to be very bad of me,” Jinyoung says, standing up and clapping his hands together. “But I’ve got four six-packs in the fridge if you want to talk this out properly.”

Chan frowns. “I think my parents are still expecting me home… a few hours ago.”

“Give me your phone.” Jinyoung holds out a hand. He taps on Chan’s mom’s number on speed dial. He amps up the charm a couple notches as he says, “Hello? Hi, ma’am, this is Coach Park. Yeah, he’s fine, he’s here at our house right now-” Jinyoung holds out the phone in Chan’s direction for the latter to squeak out a guilty, “Hi Mama.”

Jinyoung puts the phone back against his ear. “Oh, of course. I don’t let my brother walk around by himself at this time, either. No, ma’am, I don’t mind at all. It’s no trouble to us. Really? All right, I’ll tell him. Thanks again, ma’am, and sorry for bothering you at this time. Of course. Good night.”

Chan and Hyunjin can’t stop staring.

“Told you I should’ve just become an actor.” Jinyoung chuckles at his brother as he hands Chan’s phone back to him. He walks over to the fridge and pulls out three cans of beer. “So,” he says as he flops back down on the couch. “Where were we?”

 

Jinyoung wakes up. He cracks his back a few times and steps out of his room. Hyunjin’s still a pretty-much-nonliving heap on the couch, with a warm blanket Jinyoung had had the presence of mind to toss over him the night before.

Jinyoung frowns when he hears the crackle of hot oil.

“’Morning,” Chan mutters, his eyes dark and half-shut as he attempts to flip three eggs over with the wrong end of a ladle.

Jinyoung summons up all the professionalism he has in his body to keep a straight face as he plucks the ladle out of the poor hungover teen’s hands. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

“It’s only polite.” Chan mutters. The toaster dings, and he pulls out two slices of steaming hot bread with his bare hands. “Ouch.”

Jinyoung hands him a plate to catch the bread. “Woojin was seriously passing up on something good when he broke up with you.”

“He… _what_?” Chan stumbles backward into the island. “How did you _know_?”

 _You forget what lightweights these good, nice teenage boys are,_ Jinyoung tells himself internally as he slides the eggs out onto a plate. “You said everything last night.”

“Oh.” Chan makes a face that, put kindly, makes him look like an upset sultana. “How much of everything?”

“Well, before you launched into that shit, you came to a decision about transferring schools last night,” Jinyoung says. “If you can remember.”

Chan nods. His eyes are still pretty much shut, but he sounds serious as he says, “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s a relief.” Jinyoung says, opening the fridge to see if he has the ingredients for something close to hangover soup. “So, have you changed your mind now that you’ve slept on it?”

“I wouldn’t call that sleeping, really,” Chan scratches his messy hair. “But no, I haven’t changed my mind. I’ll tell my parents when I get home.”

Jinyoung opens his mouth to say something along the lines of, _Maybe don’t tell them_ just _yet_ , because he’d forgotten for a moment that Chan’s got a pretty good relationship with his parents. _Wonder what that’s like,_ Jinyoung thinks, finding himself looking over at Hyunjin, who’s sleeping facedown like a cat. Their parents will probably be surprised to find that Hyunjin’s grown taller in the year they’d been gone, and nothing else.

“I’m going to make hangover soup.” Jinyoung says to Chan. “Have some before you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all my pepinators our there, put yo fucking hands up   
> 
> 
> this chapter's kinda short but i'm still working on the next one it's the one 2 look out 4


	56. “Did I fucking stutter?” – Bang Chan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan sighs. “I get to choose when and _who_ I forgive-”
> 
> “ _Whom_.” Woojin corrects him.

The sun is setting low over the skyline as Chan starts up the incline. He’d only just managed to tell his parents about his decision before falling back asleep as soon as he’d gotten home, and by the time he’d woken up again, the sky had been turning orange.  

“Be back before dark,” was all Chan’s mom had been able to say while Chan had been lacing up his running shoes.

“I will,” Chan had said with a peck to his mom’s cheek. “I just need to go for a quick run. I wasn’t able to this morning.”

Chan’s dad had been standing by the door, as if considering trying to block him. “Don’t tire yourself out too much.”

“I’m good, Dad.” Chan pecks his dad on the cheek, too. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I love you, Chan.” Chan’s dad says.

“Love you, too. See you later!”

 He’s been running for a good twenty minutes now, and the sky’s becoming part rust, part lilac as he huffs his way up the mountain road. He’s not planning to go all the way up the mountain, obviously, because he wouldn’t be back by _morning_ if he did that.

He slows to a strained uphill jog as he nears the lookout point. His legs had just been starting to ache, but he forgets about it immediately.

There’s a big black car parked at the side of the road, but that’s not what catches Chan’s attention. There’s a figure silhouetted against the sunset, leaning on the lookout’s rusty railing as he gazes out at the smoggy city below.

“The view’s usually clearer than this,” Chan says as he comes closer.

Woojin laughs when he sees him. “Should’ve figured you’d be here, too.”

“I’m not here _every_ day, you know.” Chan says, not sure why he’s being defensive. He leans on the railing, a safe half meter away. He squints out at the murky lights blinking to life below. “The view seems to have picked today to be ugly as heck.”

“Just for me, how touching.” Woojin says. Then he gives Chan a curious look. “So what’re you training for?”

“What?”

“Why the hell are you running up the mountain?”

Chan frowns. “To clear my head.”

“The air is thinner up here. If anything, it’ll do the opposite.” Woojin’s tapping the pads of his fingers against the lifted, rusty bumps on the railing.

“Then I’ll run straight down into the ground or something next time.” Chan mutters, ignoring Woojin’s mean laugh. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I came from H----- University.” Woojin nods vaguely in the direction of the mountain behind them, where the university is just hidden from view.

Chan nods. “So you’re going there next year?”

“Yeah.” Woojin gestures the terrible view. “I could run here every day, too, when I’m there. If I wanted to.”

Chan frowns at Woojin. It’s that weird time, where the sky is still bright, but you can hardly pick out the features in people’s faces. _Not that I’m very good at reading Woojin’s face in the middle of the day._

Chan doesn’t know how to be sneaky, clever, or even subtle. He just wants to _know_.

He reaches for his phone in his pocket, and slips something out of its case. He holds it out to Woojin. “Why were you keeping this?”

Chan knows full well that it’s too dark now for Woojin to even see what’s written on the paper, and it’s mostly been rubbed out on top of that. Still, Woojin makes this strange noise when he takes the reeipt from Chan. It almost sounds like a sigh.

“Why do you think?” Woojin asks.

“I don’t know _what_ to think, Woojin.” Chan’s sure anyone can see his frown right now. “I don’t get you at all.”

“I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“Among other things.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sorry.” Woojin’s hands grip the railing so tightly the rusty paint cracks. “I shouldn’t have done that to you – I shouldn’t have hurt you like that, no matter what I thought I was doing.”

Chan watches Woojin’s hands wring the railing like a wet towel. “And what was that?”

“I was thinking that…” Woojin shakes his head. “Bad things always seem to happen to you when I’m around.”

Chan can’t help it. He snorts. “ _What_?”

Woojin turns to him, his eyes so offended and confused that they’re bright in the faint light the sky’s giving them. “That night, with my father-”

“Anyone would’ve stopped him.” Chan says.

“B- But your grades-”

“That time you tutored me was first and only time I got that high in a math exam.”

Woojin seems to be racking his brains for something else to say. “And, uh, your team _lost_ -”

“Honestly, Woojin, getting past prelims this year was winning already for us.” Chan says, breaking out into a full smile.

“Fair enough.” Woojin agrees.

Chan can hear Woojin’s fingers tapping anxiously against the lookout railing. There’s a rhythm to it, a song that Chan doesn’t know the name of but Chan recognizes it from the time that Woojin had taught him math.Chan can’t remember any of the actual math lessons, but he remembers the frantic tapping and low humming Woojin resorts to when he’s really thinking hard about something.

“My problems didn’t go away when you did, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Chan says, gently resting his fingers on top of Woojin’s to stop them from drumming on the railing. When Woojin stops, he draws his hand away quickly. “I’ve had a rough couple of months.”

“I’m sorry.”

Chan gives Woojin a weak smile. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I didn’t do anything to help, did I?” Woojin heaves a low sigh.

“It wasn’t your fault I was such a mess.” Chan reaches out to touch Woojin, but stops his hand midway. _I shouldn’t._ “You were right, we both had our own stuff to deal with-”

“No, I’ve been _really_ fucking stupid, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you have.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.” Woojin turns to Chan and drops to his knees. “I didn’t want to hurt you, and I was just being stupid because I- I was being stupid, I don’t know, Chan, I don’t care if you forgive me or not but I’m so sorry, you’re a great guy and you didn’t deserve that and I’ve felt so awful for months and I’ve just been a coward…”

Chan’s so surprised he jumps back and stumbles on a crack in the pavement. He’d been picturing something like this for months, especially on the nights when he just couldn’t fall asleep, but for some reason, he just can’t stand watching Woojin kneeling on the concrete like this.

“Woojin,” Chan rests his hand on Woojin’s shoulder. “As much as I like hearing you apologize to me on your knees, I actually don’t.”

Woojin stands up, looking down at Chan again. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“You don’t get to use that tone on me yet,” Chan says in an upset tone. “Back on your knees.”

Woojin complies without even blinking, dropping to the sidewalk so quickly his knees make a sound against it.

“Dude.” Chan laughs, bending over to help Woojin to his feet. “I was _kidding_. You don’t need to be like this-”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I already forgave you when I picked up that stupid thing.” Chan says, pointing at the crumpled, sweaty mess of a receipt enclosed in Woojin’s fist.

“You shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve it.”

Chan sighs. “I get to choose when and _who_ I forgive-”

“ _Whom_.” Woojin corrects him.

“Kim Woojin.” Chan says, glaring at him, never mind that he can’t see it. “I’d have fucking thrown you over the fucking railing just now if I didn’t-”

“Sorry.” Woojin lowers his head, bent over so much that he’s shorter than Chan. “I’m sorry.”

Chan runs his fingers agitatedly through his hair. He’d thought about it on and off for months now, and come to the conclusion that _yes_ , he _does_ want an apology from Woojin. But not like _this_. Woojin doing everything but pleading at Chan’s feet is doing things to his brain.

“Listen, I’ve been trying this thing out lately,” Chan says slowly, like he’s dipping his foot into a tub to test the water. “It’s called being a selfish asshole.”

Woojin lifts his head. “What? _You_?”

“Yeah, well it’s a work in progress. But I’ve already made a few selfish decisions.” Chan says proudly. “Be proud of me.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“I don’t care.” Chan says as haughtily as he can, but it just sounds like a bad impression of Woojin, and they both laugh. “I’m really bad at this shit.”

Woojin lets out a dry chuckle, a low, throaty noise that’s messing with more than just Chan’s brain. “I could teach you.”

“Yeah, you’re the expert on that,” Chan nods. His brain, in its’ last dying gasps, makes one last jump. “When do we start?”

Woojin seems to freeze in place. “What?”

“When do we start _asshole lessons_?” Chan asks.

“Please don’t put those two words together ever again.” Woojin rubs his temples.

“Oh.” Chan’s entire face heats up when he _realizes_. “Crap. Sorry.”

“Seriously, Chan, you couldn’t go _five minutes_ without apologizing to someone?” Woojin clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “That’s just-”

“Dinner.” Chan says abruptly. “Tomorrow night.”

Woojin stares at Chan for a very long time, and Chan’s worried that he’s misread Woojin entirely – _Maybe I’m wrong. Won’t be the first time. Maybe he doesn’t want me back, he’s just being polite because he’s like that._

“Tomorrow’s my graduation.” Woojin sounds like the corners of his mouth are pulling up into a smile. “I’m having dinner with my mom-”

“ _Did I fucking stutter_?” Chan asks.

Woojin’s frozen to the spot again, and Chan’s not even sure he’s breathing. _Okay, I fucked up._

Chan makes a face. “Was that too much?”

“No, that was… hot.”

Chan laughs, flicking Woojin on the arm. “Stop it, _gosh_. I’m just kidding. I’m not going to mess with your big graduation dinner.”

“No, please do,” Woojin says, still a little breathless from _nothing_. “Jihyo’s going to be there. I don’t think I can deal with her right now.”

“Did you just…break up with her?”

“More like, _I just crushed her lifelong dream for the two of us_ , but yes, I guess you could put it like that.” Woojin lets out a nervous laugh as he takes Chan’s hands in his. “Anyway, dinner? Dinner sounds perfect.”

Chan laughs, trying to pull his hands free, but he’d forgotten how strong Woojin can be. “I haven’t even said _where_ -”

“Anywhere’s good. My treat.” Woojin says almost desperately. “Anything you want.”

“How mad is Jihyo exactly?”

“You don’t even want to know.”

Chan laughs, and, just because he needs more practice at being selfish and getting what he wants, leans forward until their noses brush against each other.

“I- I think we should t- take it slow this time,” Woojin stammers out, losing his footing as he steps back. He just barely grabs onto the railing for support.

“I don’t.” Chan says, grabbing a fistful of Woojin’s button-down to pull him closer. “Haven’t we wasted enough time already?”

“Sorry,” Woojin gasps against Chan’s mouth, and it sends tingles all the way down to Chan’s toes. He kisses him. “Sorry.” He says, before kissing him again. “I’m sorry.” He misses Chan’s lips this time, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I’m _so_ -”

“Hate to break this up,” Mr. Nakamoto says, leaning out the car window. “But at least take the poor guy out to dinner first, Woojin.”

Chan feels Woojin’s cheek grow warm against his.

“So, uh, dinner tonight?” Woojin asks. “T- Tomorrow’s still on. I can buy you dinner _forever_ if-”

“Woojin, calm the fuck down.” Chan smiles and kisses Woojin on the cheek. “Sorry, but my family’s expecting me home for dinner today. I’m already late as it is.”

Woojin leans back against the railings, taking in a lungful of the almost-mountain air. “Wow, you’re _really_ bad at this selfish asshole thing.”

“I’ll get better at it.” Chan pouts.

Woojin leans forward to press one last kiss on Chan’s lips. “I hope you never do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the final chapter of this baseball au behemoth! ⚾🏏 
> 
> Thanks again for all the comments, and I'm sorry I can't reply to them all but I really really appreciate them! 💖


	57. Chapter 57: Dance Dance (With Me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _When you hold my hand, I understand the magic that you do…You’re my dream come true,_ ” Woojin sings, and it’s like the room seems to dim and quiet around him until there’s nothing left but Chan – sweet, overly cheerful, completely off-tempo Chan. “ _My one and only you._ ”
> 
> The room erupts into cheers, but Woojin doesn’t really hear them.

Chan kisses his mom on the cheek as he clambers out of the truck. There’s a slightly muddy stain on the knee of his jeans, and he tries scrubbing it out with his hands, but it’s no use. Not that Chan really cares. His entire body’s been buzzing since the night before, like he’s had a truckload of sugar and hasn’t come down from it yet.

“Don’t forget the order.” His mom says, handing him a huge bouquet of flowers that look kind of like bubbles on a wand.

“Right.” Chan takes the bouquet and straightens the bow out a little. _It’s got to be perfect._

“What about the other one?”

“Yeah, haha, see you later, Mom.” Chan grabs the second bouquet out of the back of the truck and starts towards the school.

He’s never been in S------- High, but he figures the big round thing must be the auditorium, and the rumbling from inside must mean that the graduation’s still… _happening_? _Wow I really don’t know anything about this stuff._

He’s just walking around the big round thing like an idiot, trying to find out where it opens. _It’s like a spaceship… But with no door… Why is there no door…_

“Chan?”

Chan nearly drops both bouquets. “Hey! Seungmin!”

Seungmin waves from the other side of the fence. He’s wearing a plain black button-down and slacks and a giant nametag that reads, _USHER_.

“Here, I’ll just… _urhgfk._ ” Seungmin grunts as he lifts a part of the chain link fence that _definitely_ should not have been movable. Chan quickly ducks through, hugging the bouquets close to his chest.

“Thanks, man.” Chan frowns at the mothership auditorium. “Where the hell is the door to this thing?”

“Downstairs.” Seungmin laughs. “There’s an underground tunnel connecting it to the school.”

_Oh. Makes sense._

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Chan frowns.

“Come on,” Seungmin claps a hand on Chan’s back and starts leading him into the school building.

 

Seungmin just holds a finger to his lips as he holds a door open for Chan.

Chan nods and steps into the cool auditorium, holding onto the bouquets to keep them from rustling too loudly. He tiptoes over to one of the empty seats at the very back, because someone seems to be walking up the stage, and the last thing Chan wants to do is to ruin someone else’s graduation.

“And now, some words of insipiration from the graduating class’ valedictorian, Kim Woojin.”

_Of_ course _it’s Woojin._ Chan squints at the figure a couple thousand seats away. _Of fucking course it is._

“Good afternoon everyone,” Woojin says, his voice clear even though the sound system’s echoing harder than a karaoke machine’s. Chan can’t see well, but it looks like Woojin’s face is turned down, reading something off the podium. “Respected members of the board of trustees, the management committee, the school’s faculty and staff…”

Chan only realizes he’s crushing the life out of Jihyo’s bouquet out of secondhand anxiety when a handful of flowers fall to the floor. _Shit._

_Shit shit shit._

He sweeps them under the chair with one foot and tries to straighten the flowers left out. Seungmin’s covering his mouth with his hand, and he’s not making any noise, but his shoulders are visibly shaking as he watches Chan frantically trying to cover up the hole in the bouquet.

“As the school president said, we are the future of our nation- You know what, _fuck_ this speech.” Woojin’s voice cuts through the dead, respectful silence of the auditorium. A few gasps erupt from the audience as Woojin tosses his prepared speech off the podium. He clears his throat and actually looks over the people listening to him for the first time. “A couple months back, my… my… uh, _someone very important to me_ told me that everything I’ve lived my entire life by is stupid. And I didn’t really want to admit it at the time – which was doubly stupid of me – but he was right.”

Chan stops messing with the flowers and looks up.

“My parents, and probably all of your parents, too, raised us looking to the future. We have to study hard to get good grades. We have to have good grades to get into good schools. We have to get into good schools to get good jobs. And we have to get good jobs to live good lives.” Woojin says, ticking them off on his fingers. “Life sounds really bleak when you put it like that, right? Here we are working our asses off for a future we’re not even sure will ever come, or worse yet, a future that we don’t even know if we really _want_ for ourselves.”

The audience is starting to make unsettled, shuffling noises in their seats. Someone’s already started up the stairs of the stage, presumably to stop Woojin from saying anything else.

“I’m not here to say that we should just throw everything away and live like animals, though that’s probably how my father would describe me right now,” Woojin lets out a dry chuckle, watching out of the corner of his eye as anxious teachers are coming up the steps to the stage. “All I really wanted to say is that we don’t need to wait for the distant future to live good lives. We should live well today, because, as one of my favorite musicals puts it, there is,” Woojin starts singing, “ _No day but today_.”

Chan had heard Woojin hum along to music a couple times, but he’d never heard him sing out loud like this, in front of a couple thousand people like he does it every night. Woojin flashes the entire auditorium one last, radiant grin before he’s escorted off the stage.

Chan’s heart won’t hold still in his ribcage, or wherever it is.

_That’s_ my _Woojin._

“Hurry, hurry,” Chan says, thrusting a bouquet of slightly bruised sunflowers into a confused Woojin’s arms. He starts pushing Woojin towards the exit, weaving past the crying parents and selfie-taking graduates.

“Wait, what’s this?” Woojin laughs, skidding to a stop.

“It’s for you.” Chan gestures at the sunflowers, then at Woojin. “Now come _on_ -”

“You didn’t have to,” Woojin says, with a goofy smile. _Of course he loves it. He wouldn’t have been so mean about them in the store if he didn’t._

“Yes, I _know_ ,” Chan says urgently. “Now can we go?”

“Why?” Woojin’s still smiling at his sunflowers. “What’s up?”

“I ruined Jihyo’s bouquet.”

“Oh _fuck_ , Chan.” Woojin’s smile drops as he starts brisk walking towards the gate, leaving Chan behind. “Why would you do that?”

Chan scrambles to catch up. “Because _someone_ had to go and make some _crazy rebel speech_! I thought I was going to just die on the spot-”

“Why would _you_ die? I’m the one they practically had to drag off the stage,” Woojin slings an arm around Chan, but his gold medal knocks into Chan’s arm. “Wait, could you hold the flowers? Fuck this thing.”

Chan holds the bouquet while Woojin tugs his medal over his head. Woojin tosses it carelessly to the bushes, but Chan reaches out his left hand and catches it on instinct.

Woojin laughs. “Honestly-”

“I’ll keep it if you don’t want to.” Chan says, staring right into Woojin’s eyes.

“Fine. Keep it.” Woojin shrugs, taking his flowers back. “You’d probably get more out of selling it.”

Chan tucks the medal into his jacket pocket while Woojin heaves the heavy iron gate open for them both. He pats his pocket to secure it.

“So, where are we going for dinner?” Woojin asks, letting the gate slam shut behind them.

“I was thinking we should try to save money, since, uh…” Chan makes a face.

“Since I’m going to be essentially broke pretty soon? Good call.” Woojin extends his hand, stretching his fingers wide. “So, where are we headed?”

Chan takes Woojin’s hand. “It’s cheap as _fuck_ , trust me.”

 

Woojin doesn’t question anything the entire bus ride, but when Chan squeezes his hand to let him know they’re getting off at the stop near Chan’s house, he frowns. _I’m not ready for dinner with Chan’s family again-_

“Don’t worry, we’re not going home today,” Chan says, reading right through Woojin’s frown as they hop off the bus.

“Good.”

Woojin follows Chan pretty much blindly, their hands intertwined and just a little bit sweaty as they walk through the dark and winding streets. Chan could be leading him to a literal dumpster, and at this point he wouldn’t mind.

Then Chan comes to a stop outside the only brightly-lit building for kilometers around.

“The community center?” Woojin looks at Chan, whose smile is brighter than the painfully fluorescent lights.

“Free food every Friday.” Chan says, holding the door open for Woojin.

Woojin’s about to ask something else when he sees the big tarpaulin at the other end of the community center’s main hall. _Seniors Night_ , it reads in big yellow letters.

He turns to Chan with a dry look. “Is this a joke?”

“Nooooo,” Chan laughs, letting go of Woojin’s hand to loop their arms together. “Come on, they should probably have started dancing already.”

Woojin’s mind freezes, even if his body allows itself to be dragged along by Chan. _Wait,_ what _?_

 

Woojin is decidedly not a party person. He’d been to a few parties, being part of the baseball team in a douchey school, and being friends with Jihyo, but he’d never known what to do with himself at a party.

_This is hardly a party, though,_ Woojin thinks, watching the elderly couples pack the dancefloor, swaying to songs he’s only heard his mother play from his grandma’s old records.

He looks back at Chan to find a suspiciously cheerful look on the latter’s face. Chan reaches out to grab one of Woojin’s hands, but Woojin manages to jump away just in time. _Oh hell no._

“Chan!” One of Chan’s grandmas trots over to squeeze him like a nearly empty tube of toothpaste.

“Hi grandma,” Chan says, gasping for air as he pats her beefy arm. “Grandma, Woojin’s here-”

“I love this song! Let’s dance!” Chan’s grandma takes her grandson’s hands in a viselike grip to lead him to the dance floor. Chan looks reluctant to leave Woojin, shooting the latter one puppy dog look, but the minute a disco song starts playing, Chan starts dancing like a man possessed by John Travolta (whom Woojin knows isn’t dead yet).

Woojin reverts to his usual party self as well. He gets a glass of water and finds somewhere to sit and nurse his water while watching everyone else have fun. Actually, he’s just watching Chan get whisked from one grandma to the next, each seeming happier to dance with him than the last.

“Woojin, my boy!”

Woojin gives Chan’s grandpa a respectful bow. “Good evening-”

“Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Sorry, I don’t really-”

“Your knees are still good,” Chan’s grandpa chuckles, pulling Woojin to his feet with enough strength to scare Woojin. _Why is Chan’s entire family so jacked?_ “Go dance!”

“N- No thanks, I’m not much of a dancer-”

“He likes to sing!” Chan says as he whips past, pulling his giggling seventy-something-year-old partner into a twirl.

Chan’s grandpa cups a hand around his mouth and starts yelling at the old man on the stage, squinting at the karaoke machine’s TV like the daily crossword’s onscreen. “Hey! Baldy! Let this boy sing!”

The old man – Woojin refuses to call him _Baldy_ , even in his head – had actually been trying to figure out a song that Woojin recognizes.

“Does he speak English? I can’t do this English crap!” The old man on the stage says.

“Of course he can, all the kids these days do!” Chan’s grandpa says, shoving Woojin towards the stage. Woojin climbs the steps, afaid that if he didn’t, Chan’s grandpa would _launch_ him onto the stage like a catapult.

Woojin is immediately overcome with Regret with a capital R when he realizes the entire room’s watching him. Chan’s somewhere on the far end, laughing silently.

_Dammit, Chan._

“What song do you want, son?” Baldy asks Woojin. “This machine doesn’t have any of _your_ generation’s-”

“I, uh, I know that song,” Woojin says, making an awkward gesture at the song currently playing on the machine. “Ish.”

“Perfect!” Baldy punches the karaoke machine – Woojin assumes a button or two must’ve gotten pressed in the process. The song starts again, with the whining instrumentals and metallic drumbeats filling the community center hall.

Woojin grips the microphone like a drowning man might hold onto a piece of driftwood.

The timer on the TV screen ticks down, _4…3…2…1…_

“ _Only you_ ,” Woojin starts shakily. _My voice is loud. Why is it so loud?_ “Uh… _can make all this world seem right.”_

“See? Told you he was good at English.” Chan’s grandpa says.

“All the kids are, these days.” Baldy grumbles.

“ _Only you can make the darkness bright_ ,” Woojin sings on, his eyes trained on the white letters on the TV screen and nothing else. “ _Only you, and you alone can thrill me like you do… And fill my heart with love for only you…”_

There’s a whistle from the crowd and Woojin feels the heat rise up on his cheeks all the way to his ears. “ _O-ohhh-only you can make this change in me…For it’s true, you are my destiny…”_

He glances away from the lyrics, which he pretty much knows by heart thanks to his mom anyway, and looks at Chan, who’s turned away as he leads his grandma’s friend through something close to an ill-timed waltz. Woojin smiles. “ _When you hold my hand, I understand the magic that you do…”_

Chan twirls his grandma’s friend around, making her giggle. He winks at Woojin as he turns away again.

“ _You’re my dream come true,”_ Woojin sings, and it’s like the room seems to dim and quiet around him until there’s nothing left but Chan – sweet, overly cheerful, completely off-tempo Chan. “ _My one and only you.”_

The room erupts into cheers, but Woojin doesn’t really hear them.

Chan taps his grandma’s tenth or eleventh friend gently on the arm. “Excuse me, I’m just going to get some water.”

“Of course, dear,” The woman says, giving Chan a warm, dentured smile.

Chan weaves his way through the elderly couples on the dancefloor to the only other young person in the room, who’s sitting in the corner fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth. He’d never thought of Woojin as the wallflower type, but here he is.

“Hey, Woojin.” Chan flops into the seat next to Woojin’s, accepting the glass of water Woojin’s holding out to him. “Thanks.”

“They ought to be paying you for this,” Woojin laughs, fanning Chan’s flushed face with one hand.

“No, I could do this all night,” Chan says, putting the glass down. He nudges Woojin gently with his elbow. “Speaking of which, my grandma and her friends are asking if you accept requests.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t worry, I already told them that.” Chan pats Woojin’s thigh, leaving his hand there, _just because_. “You have a lovely voice, though.”

“Thank you.” Woojin says, in that painfully polite way that feels almost like a mercy kill.

Chan gives Woojin’s thigh a playful squeeze. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes.” Woojin says, again so politely that Chan can’t help but disbelieve it.

“Really?” Chan squeezes Woojin’s thigh again, but the latter doesn’t even flinch. “Because it doesn’t look like it. Mr. Ha seems to be having more fun than you.” Chan wags his eyebrows over at an old man dozing off in the opposite corner.

Woojin gives Chan a cold look. “Don’t be mean to him. He’s old.”

“Come on, _old guy_ ,” Chan grabs Woojin’s thigh and gives it a shake. “Dance with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Woojin’s face is dead serious, like he’s delivering grim news, as he says, “I _don’t_ dance.”

Chan rolls his eyes as he gets up, straightening out his shirt as he does. He turns back to Woojin and, with a flourish, extends his hand to his ridiculously grumpy date.

Woojin stares at Chan’s hand for a moment.

Then he heaves a long sigh and takes Chan’s hand reluctantly, allowing himself to be dragged to his feet. But when Chan pulls him close, swaying to the tinny sound of the karaoke machine and the off-key warbling of one of the old women, Woojin is smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!!!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who helped this fic actually lumber through to the end: My little sister the #1 Changlix supporter & best beta on this godforsaken planet, my extremely supportive friends, and of course everyone else who's been sending me all the supportive comments and messages and tweets you guys make me cry sometimes 😢💕💕💕 This fic wouldn't have existed in its' bloated state without all the love I've received so I really can't thank everyone enough 💖
> 
> Stream [Only You by The Platters](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FygIKsnkCw) for clear skin.


	58. The after credits scene

_Much later that evening, Sana’s café_

 

Changbin’s lifting two chairs in either arm. “Where do these go?”

“Whoa, dude, chill,” Minho laughs, pulling Jisung out of the way before Changbin accidentally whacks him with a chair or two. “Just put them upside down on the tables over there.”

“Got it.”

Jisung shimmies out of Minho’s grasp to carry on dragging a broom uselessly along the floor. “You don’t have to stay for clean-up, Changbin.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Changbin shrugs as casually as he can while placing the chairs upside down on the tables in the far corner of the café. _There’s no nice way to say that I don’t actually want to go home tonight._

Jisung seems satisfied with his reply, though, because he stops sweeping and turns back to Minho, who’s wiping the tables down with a rag. “Wonder why Cap didn’t make it.”

“What’re you talking about?” Minho frowns as he takes the broom from Jisung and starts sweeping the floor properly. He prods the broom handle in Changbin’s general direction. “Changbin’s right here.”

“No, I meant…” Jisung makes a face when he realizes his mistake. “I meant Chan. You know, the guy we planned this whole thing for. Aside from Jaehyun.”

Minho nudges Jisung out of the way with one foot to sweep under him. “Did you tell him the right time and place?”

“I, uh… We did, didn’t we?” Jisung turns to Changbin with a look of pure horror that, in the dimly lit café, looks comical. “Right?”

“I’m pretty sure we did.” Changbin lowers another set of chairs upside down on a table. “Maybe something else turned up.”

“He’d have texted us, then.”

Changbin has nothing to say to that. _Yeah, it’s not Cap – I mean,_ Chan _’s style to stand people up. Son of a bitch, I have to get used to the whole Captain thing. How are people going to respect me if I keep acting like Chan’s still around-_

The door opens with a chime.

“We’re closed.” Minho and Jisung drone at once.

“Hey guys.”

Changbin nearly drops a chair. “Cap?”

Chan gives them a little wave. “Hey guys, sorry I couldn’t make it earlier. Thought you guys might’ve ended a little later-”

“It’s one in the morning.” Jisung blinks at him.

“Well, uh,” Chan runs a hand self-consciously through his hair. “My date ran on a little longer that I’d expected once he figured out he liked dancing.”

Minho and Jisung exchange wide-eyed looks before turning to Changbin like, _Did you know about this?_

Changbin shakes his head slowly. He tries to give Chan a supportive smile. “Date? That’s great, Cap.”

“Thanks.” Chan punches Changbin lightly on the arm. “Hey, don’t forget, _you’re_ the Cap now.”

Changbin resists the urge to smack himself. “Right.”

The pretty much empty café falls into an awkward silence.

Minho gives the floor a loud sweep, the scraping noise cutting into the silence. “We’ve still got some leftovers if you’re hungry.”

“No thanks, I’ve already eaten. Thanks.” Chan says, patting his stomach. “I just dropped by to tell the guys something.”

The tone Chan uses just then is so weirdly serious that Changbin frowns, and he can feel Jisung giving Changbin a pointed look as he asks, “What is it, Ca- _Chan_?”

“Oh, I-” Chan makes a face, like he’s lifting something heavy. “Wow, this is harder than I thought.”

“What’s up, Cap- _Chan_?” Jisung pretends to lean casually on a nearby column.

“Uh…” Chan bites his lip.

“Should I go?” Minho asks.

“No, it’s okay, I guess eveyone’s going to find out eventually.” Chan takes a deep breath and shrugs his shoulders. “I got this. I can do this.”

 _What the fuck would he need to_ announce _like this?_ A million different scenarios run through Changbin’s head, and only about a quarter of them are good.

“I didn’t graduate with Jaehyun and the others yesterday, so I honestly felt a little awkward about going to your senior send-off at all,” Chan says, his hands curling into fists at his sides, then unfurling again. “I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you guys when you invited me. I guess I was embarrassed.”

It’s late, and Changbin’s tired from trying to keep the guys in order all night (or at least, enough order to keep them from breaking shit), so he’s not as quick as usual. _Wait, so…_

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed of.” Minho says, frowning at Changbin and Jisung for not speaking up earlier.

_Right._

Changbin looks down sheepishly at his shoes. “We know you did your best, Cap.”

Chan opens his mouth, as if to correct Changbin, then he just smiles and says. “Thanks, Changbin.”

“But where are you going to go now?” Jisung blurts out, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from the end of Minho’s broom.

“I’m staying at W------ High for another year.” Chan says firmly. “My parents wanted me to transfer out, but there’s no way I’m leaving you guys.”

Changbin knows he can’t be angry with Chan, not for this, but a dark part of him wishes that Chan would’ve just listened to his parents and _left_. It’s not that Changbin doesn’t like Chan – the trouble is that he does like Chan, and everyone else does, too.

Changbin realizes that everyone’s looking at him funny. “That’s uh… great, Cap. The other guys are gonna go wild when they hear that. Not that you not graduating is a good thing – I mean, not that it’s a _bad_ thing either-”

“So you’ll be classmates with Changbin.” Jisung cuts in, and for a change, Changbin is relieved that he does. Minho pokes Jisung again with the end of the broom, giving him a sharp look.

“Yeah, probably.” Chan says, and the look he’s giving Changbin is deeply apologetic, like he’d just run over Changbin’s dog or something.

_This is much worse._

“So you’ll still be captain.” Changbin says.

“Oh, no,” Chan makes an X with his forearms. “No, _you’re_ definitely the captain now. I’ll just be another teammate.”

Changbin tries, he really tries not to grind his teeth. _As if_ Chan _could ever do_ that _._

_It’s not fair to get mad at a guy for failing a year. Chan obviously didn’t mean to do this to you._

_Which makes it worse, doesn’t it?_

“It’s going to be weird.” Jisung says.

“That’s one way to put it.” Changbin says, before flipping a chair over onto the the nearest table. _Why can’t_ anything _go my fucking way?_

“Do you need any help with that?” Chan asks, already reaching for the last chair.

“No.” Changbin grabs the chair and flips it over before Chan can even get near it. “No, thanks, _Chan_ , I don’t need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dumb baseball boys will return in _**I Don’t Feel Like Dancing**_ this November-ish.


End file.
